


Soulmate Prophecy

by diamonddaydream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animagus Sirius Black, Astrology, Canon Compliant, Care of Magical Creatures, Clinging, Creature Inheritance, Crushes, Divination, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Head Boy James Potter, Head Girl Lily Evans Potter, Hogwarts, Implied Sexual Content, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Pining, Prophecy, Secret Marriage, Sirius Black as Padfoot, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Sweet, Veela, Werewolf Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 127,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamonddaydream/pseuds/diamonddaydream
Summary: What will it take for Lily Evans to accept James Potter as her soulmate? Nothing short of a prophecy she makes herself during an unplanned visit to James's house during 7th year Christmas holidays with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Sweet Jily fluff, secret marriage, slight angst, and an intense Werewolf Remus Lupin/Narcissa Black Veela romance to take the darkness by surprise.
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Peter Pettigrew, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Comments: 107
Kudos: 131





	1. One

It didn't seem right that there was nothing in the Statute of Secrecy to forbid James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew from attracting so much attention to themselves in Kings Cross so late at night. The Hogwarts Express had brought them to London late in the afternoon, and since then they’d been tearing all over the city, in the Christmas lights and crowds, having a noisy, barely legal time.

They were back in the station, bound for the Floo network buried in the sub-basement, off to James’s family’s house in the country. They had come skidding across the floor, jostling each other at the top of the concrete stairwell when Sirius howled for quiet.

“Shame on you, James,” he said. “Rushing by without a word. How could you miss it?”

James shoved Peter away from where he was crowding him in the stairwell doorway. “What are you on about?”

Sirius sniffed deeply at the rich mess of smells in the station. “Right, your sense of smell is rubbish.”

James huffed. “Maybe compared to rats and dogs it is, but -- “

Remus hushed him. “I smell it too. But it can’t be,” he said, looking at Sirius. “It’s been hours since she arrived here on the train with the rest of us.”

“Oh, but it’s her for sure,” Peter added, a bit smug about being able to sense what James couldn’t for once. “Right this way.”

He set off, making his way to a bench screwed to the floor, out of the way, where a trunk and a small figure, hunched over in a dark wool, coat sat alone.

“Pete, wait up,” Remus called. “Don’t embarrass -- “

But James had seen her now, and he was calling her name. “Evans!”

There was no hint of surprise on Lily Evans’s face as she sat up to look at them. Of course she had seen them when they first came roaring into the station, but she hadn’t wanted their pity so she’d just continued to sit. She raised a hand and waved now, cringing slightly as they came toward her. Sirius hopped up to perch on her trunk, James slid onto the bench beside her, Peter stood behind her, looking over her shoulder to where Remus crouched in front of her on the floor, speaking kindly into her face.

“What’s happened, Lily?” Remus asked. “No one’s come for you? Do you need help getting home?”

She shook her head and shoulders, fighting to smile as if it didn’t matter. “It’s my sister,” she said. “Our parents are in Switzerland until Christmas Eve, so Petunia and her boyfriend were supposed to pick me up tonight and bring me home in his car. But, as you see…” She waved a hand at herself, abandoned at the station.

“Oh,” Peter chirped. “Well, we’re just about to take the Floo -- “

“Shut up, Pete,” Sirius snapped. “She lives in a Muggle house. They won’t have a Floo.”

“Mind your manners, Sirius,” Lily rebuked him. “Thank you for the offer, Peter. But it’s not that. I have an apparation license and I could always stash my trunk here and head home on my own. But if Petunia’s at home with her Vernon and they don’t want me there -- well, I don’t want to be there either, do I?”

Sirius shuddered. “I suppose not.”

Remus was getting to his feet. “Well, even so, you can’t just stay here.”

She shrugged. “They’ll show up eventually. In the wee hours of the morning, when they think I’ve had enough time to sit here reflecting on how unworthy I am of their help and their company.”

Dog or not, James growled. “No. No more of that, Evans. Let them show up here and find you long gone. Let them know you had a better offer.”

Sirius was cackling. “Yes, James,” he said. “Bring her with us.”

“What, just show up at Potter’s house in the middle of the night?” she said.

Sirius stooped to speak into her face. “Of course. We’re all going. It’s a huge place and, you see,” he almost whispered, “my parents disowned me ages ago. And to keep me from getting too melancholy about it at Christmas, this lot all goes to Potter’s house leading up to the holidays, as if they don’t have perfectly lovely families of their own.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “What he means to say is, it’s a tradition of ours, and the more the merrier. It would be no trouble at all, right James?

For the first time since he’d sat down at her side, Lily turned to look at James, who had been staring at her profile. Her movement was careful and slow, as if held in deliberate, delicate control. 

He nodded at her. “Right. You don’t even have to ask,” he told her. “You know I’d be delighted. Anytime. Just come.”

He didn’t even blush anymore when he said things like this to her. They had become a habit, something like a running joke, only not a joke at all. 

Since the beginning of the year, they’d been working together as Head Boy and Head Girl at school. It meant they’d learned to cooperate and listen to each other, to work together to help other people. Their school partnership was successful but it was an odd pairing. Most years, the headmaster avoided having both Head Boy and Head Girl from the same house. But this year, Dumbledore had appointed two Gryffindors all the same. The move felt charged with a significance Lily couldn’t quite discern, and it kept her always slightly on her guard.

“Come on, Evans,” Sirius cajoled her. “What can it hurt?”

“I’ll get you back home in time for your parents on Christmas Eve,” James promised, blinking his big brown eyes behind his glasses. Lily’s guard slipped a little before she managed to look away from him.

“Let’s get going, Lily,” Remus added. “See how sleepy Peter is?”

Peter was faking an exaggerated yawn as Lily rose to her feet, sighing. “Just for tonight,” she said. 

It was all the consent needed for the tangle of long, boyish arms to gather up her things, bearing them away to the Floo.

\------------------------------------

James’s parents were very old. They had long since given up waiting up for him to get home when he was out with the lads. The lavish old manor house of theirs was vast but dark and quiet, no sound or light but its Floo flaring to life as, one by one, the students tripped out of the fire and into the entrance hall.

“What’s keeping Evans?” Sirius mused when everyone had arrived but Lily. “This dodgy old house doesn’t have some blasted blood purity filter on it, does it?”

“Obviously not,” Remus said, smoothing his hair back from his werewolf scars.

James was muttering, frowning, marching back toward the fireplace. He kicked at the grate, and was just about to stick his head inside when Lily emerged with a flash, knocking him onto his back and falling across his chest, her hands and knees on either side of his torso. The rest of them were laughing as she hopped back to her feet, beating the soot from her school skirt.

James didn’t apologize.

“Perfect ending to a perfect day,” Sirius said, gripping James’s forearm and pulling him to his feet.

“We’ll be heading up then,” Remus said. “No need to play host with us, James. We know the way.” He was saying it more for Lily’s benefit than anyone else’s, making excuses for leaving her and James alone while she got settled in.

She glanced around the vaulted ceilings and stone balustrades as the boys retreated. This was where Potter lived with two other people. Ridiculous. Though it explained a bit of his overblown sense of himself.

“James,” Peter hissed as he got to the top of the stairs. “Make sure she’s had something to eat.”

Three doors slammed over their heads. Lily risked another glance at James. “Your parents can sleep through all of that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Old fashioned construction. Very soundproof. Kitchen’s this way.”

He stood in the larder, sighing noisily as he pawed through the shelves looking for something to offer Lily to eat. He was muttering to himself as Lily came to help him look. “Cabbage, cabbage,” he grumbled. “What is it with old people and cabbage -- oh, here’s turnip.”

She pointed to a fancy cake plate topped with a ceramic dome. “There might be something nice under there.”

James frowned at it. “There might be,” he allowed. Gingerly, he raised the dome. “As I thought. It’s Dad’s favourite cake. Guess what gives it that green colour.”

Lily smirked. “Some kind of amphibian?”

“Worse. Peas,” James said. “It’s called pea lime cake. No limes in it though. They just added them to the name to make you feel better about all the peas.”

In the small space of the larder, her laugh seemed too loud, and she covered her own mouth with her hands. James smirked at her. “Go ahead and let it out, Evans. Oh, what’s this -- some cheese and a loaf of bread. Not even stale bread. Probably full of ancient grains though. You alright with spelt?”

“I have no reason to suspect I wouldn’t be,” she answered. “Stop fussing, Potter. I’ll eat whatever you have. It’s not like I’m a fancy guest.”

He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised, as if about to correct her. Instead he shook his head and led her to the kitchen table. She tucked into her bread and cheese and he brought her a glass of milk.

“Petunia still hasn’t let up on you?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Now that she’s with Vernon, she’s more hostile than ever.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Sibling rivalry -- not my specialty.”

She nodded at the ceiling. “Peter’s got a big family, hasn’t he?”

“Huge,” James said. 

“Is that what’s behind all those rat references you guys have for him?”

“Something like that.” James was clearing his throat, changing the subject. “Yeah, Peter is a vanishing middle child. I’m not sure his parents will have noticed that he didn’t pile into the Floo with the rest of them after the train arrived today.”

Lily narrowed her eyes, thinking. “And Sirius. His younger brother is at school. Among the younger girls, he’s considered rather dashing. Slytherin, right?”

“Naturally. Yes, that’s Regulus,” James said. “Sucky little blighter. He took the Dark Mark this year. Sixteen years old. Parents are thrilled.”

Lily’s huffed. “Are they? With that ridiculous tattoo? Severus has one now too. I’ve seen it.”

“You haven’t seen it very closely then,” James said. “It’s not a tattoo. Not ink. It’s a brand, a burn.”

Lily winced. “Hang it, Sev,” she said, as if Snape could hear somehow. “What a lot of foolishness. And now he’s stuck with a permanent, painful reminder of something embarrassing he thought was clever when he was a kid.”

James’s hands moved across the table, almost but not quite taking hold of Lily’s. “Look, I wish it was all foolishness. But it’s not. The stuff they’ve been pushing Regulus to do -- he’s balking at it. It’s that awful, I guess. And since the Death Eaters’ target is Muggle-born people -- well, I can’t help but be worried about you.”

She sat back, her hands moving farther away from James’s. “Please, Potter. I think I can handle Severus Snape and Sirius’s kid brother.”

James threw himself back in his chair, bracing his head between his hands. “Don’t be like that, Evans. Think about how things are changing. Like, even with us. Head Boy and Head Girl from the same house -- it’s strange, controversial. It’s not like no one’s been complaining about it either. They must have had an important reason for doing it. And while I’d like to think it was a bit of cute matchmaking, it’s more than that. I think Dumbledore wants you close to us -- to all four of us.”

She snorted. “Why? It’s not like I’m a loner who needs the headmaster in charge of my social life.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “But the lads and I, we’re -- “ he faltered, blushing. “It’s embarrassing to say it myself but we’re talented. Of all the other students, we’re in the best position to watch over you, and keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Sneering and name calling in the corridors?”

James let out a long breath. “The Death Eater thing -- it’s not just a snitty club. It’s not just driven by money and pride. There’s dark magic involved. And it’s like nothing anyone’s ever seen in Britain before. Regulus already wants out. He’s terrified. That Voldemort of theirs, he’s a monster, a murderer.”

From across the table, she watched James’s face. He was so earnest -- so uncharacteristically serious. And more than that. James Potter was scared -- scared for her.

She reached out, taking his hand from where it lay clenched on the tabletop. “James,” she said, her grip pulsing against his fist. “No one has tried to hurt me. No one has even threatened me. A little name calling, yes. But I’m not afraid.”

James flipped his hand to hold onto hers. His palm hot, damp, as if he was agitated. “You’re not afraid because you’re not very well connected to the adult magical world. It’s not your fault, and I can see how you could honestly mistake this for nothing but schoolyard nonsense. I wish it was, but it’s not.” 

Both of his hands were closed around hers now, not seductively but desperately, imploringly. “Lily, you’ve got no wizard parents to properly warn you. That’s part of why the Death Eaters have made you a target. They think it will be easy.”

She huffed. “I’d like to see them try -- “

“Well, I wouldn’t,” James said. “But they very well might. Even my old, cabbage eating parents upstairs are worried about all this Death Eater unrest. And Dumbledore -- with respect and everything, he’s rubbish when it comes to giving straightforward advice on anything. He should be stepping up to warn you, letting you know how dangerous everything is getting for Muggle-born witches. But instead he’s just pushing me and the lads into your path.”

She sighed and dropped her second hand on top of his. “What do you want me to do then? Be frightened? Hide here in this spooky old mansion of yours?”

He managed to smile. “For a few days, yes. Get used to being close to us, to letting us watch out for you, protect you if we have to. We’ll even tell you our secrets.”

She scoffed. “Your secrets. What, like a special handshake?”

Agitation was leaving him, his cockiness returning to take its place. His upper hand was cool against her hand, and she drew back, away from him. “No, Like secrets worth knowing," he crowed. "You might be surprised.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Right. So go on and surprise me with one of them.”

He was stammering. “Well -- I’ll have to talk to the lads first.”

“Oh, come on, Potter,” she said. “You mean to say you don’t have any good secrets of your own, nothing but what’s shared with your mates?”

He raised his own eyebrow, a coy smile breaking over his face. “What you mean? Typical schoolboy secrets? Like who I fancy?”

“I said secrets,” she smirked in return. “Not common knowledge, deluded as it might be.”

He clucked his tongue. “Deluded, is it?” he echoed. It was his only answer. She waited for more, watching him across the table. He was looking for something, pawing through his robes, shifting fabric around himself. Then all at once, with a rustle and a flourish, he was gone.

She stood up. “Potter? Potter, you can't just apparate away.”

“Right here.” It was his voice, close by, but she couldn’t see him.

She waved her arm toward the sound. He was chuckling, leading her closer. She inched along the edge of the table, feeling through the air ahead of her. “If you jump out and scare me, so help me, Potter, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the whole house.”

He was still laughing, with a muffled sound that had her peering underneath the table. “Potter?”

He wasn’t hiding there. She couldn’t hear his voice anymore. “If you think I’m going to chase you all over the house, you’ve got another thing coming.” As she said it, she spun around to leave, taking one quick step, intent on leaving the kitchen, and leaving Potter to his games. 

But the air in front of her was suddenly solid, stopping her with the sound of a thud and a grunt. The force of the impact had her reeling backward, about to fall back into her chair. Something clamped around her wrist, tugging and reversing her momentum. Her sight went dark and blurry, her hair pushed over her face, as if she was passing through a curtain. 

For a moment, she lost her breath, and when she recovered it, she was blinking, realizing she was nose to chest with James. They were in a small, enclosed space that smelled, not at all unpleasantly, of him. He was standing as close as he could get without pressing himself against her, one hand still on her wrist, the other above his head, as if holding up the ceiling of a tent.

She spun around and found they were still in the kitchen. She could see the same cupboards and shelves, though a little more dimly than they had been a minute before. The view of them rippled in folds, as if printed on fabric. Then she knew.

“Invisibility cloak!” she announced, grazing the material with her fingertips. “Well, this certainly explains a lot. You’ve had this the whole time you’ve been at school?”

“That’s right,” James said, looking out at the kitchen from over her shoulder, his mouth nearly touching her ear as he spoke. “It’s been seven years now and Dad still hasn’t noticed it’s missing from his desk in the study.”

“I’ve read about these but -- wow, Potter. Where did it come from before it was in that drawer?” she asked.

He shrugged, aristocratic enough to take marvelous magical family heirlooms completely for granted. “Dunno. It’s just always been here. But how’s that for a secret?” he beamed.

She tapped her finger against her jaw. “It is a high quality secret. I will give you that, Potter.”

“A secret worth knowing, just like I promised, and just one of many. So you’ll stay? You’ll be with us here until Christmas Eve?” 

Still standing behind her, stooped to bring his head nearly level with hers, his face was millimetres from hers. She could hear him breathing, taking in her scent. A shiver she would have to think about later ran down her neck.

She turned to face him, leaning back as he straightened to his full height. “Yes, fine,” she agreed. “I’ll let you boys take me into your secrets. Even though -- secret invisibility cloak my eye. Admit it, Potter. You’ve snogged dozens of girls under here. There’s no way you could have resisted the temptation.”

He smiled, the whole cloak twisting around them as he shook his head. “Temptation, hm?” he said. “No. No girl has ever been under here with me until now, until you.”

She lifted her chin. “Well, keep on resisting then. Don’t even think about -- ”

He gave a soft laugh. “Who’s thinking of it, Evans? You’re the one who’s brought up snogging under here. I haven’t said a word -- ”

She was sputtering, batting at his arm. “That’s -- that’s just -- “

"Look, there’s no need to worry,” he interrupted. “However I’ve imagined it -- and you know I have imagined it -- I’ve always told myself that when I kiss Lily Evans, it will be special. And no matter how nice things get, if they aren't special, I'll keep waiting."

He was lowering his arms, bringing both Lily and himself back into plain sight, into the cool air of the kitchen where they couldn’t smell each other, couldn’t warm each other anymore. 

“This was nice,” he said as he draped the cloak over his arm. “But just nice.”

She let out her breath, annoyed with herself for letting him get to her. Like an idiot, she’d tripped right into it. Maybe it was the house, or the late hour, or something about spelt grain bread, but she felt more vulnerable to him here -- more open to the influence of something almost charming about him.

“Tired?” he said.

She shook herself. “Yes, actually.”

“I’ll take you to your room.”

She nodded, standing beside the table, hugging herself with one arm.

He shifted on his feet. “Er, you want me to help? You could take my arm, or I could carry you, or -- “

“No,” she hurried. “No, I’ll just follow you. I’m coming. Thanks.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

After showing Lily to a guest room, James came into his own bedroom to find all of the lads sprawled on the furniture in their sleeping clothes, waiting for him.

Sirius came at him first, sniffing deeply. “Progress, but not conquest. You’ve got her sweat on you, maybe some soap, but not her saliva.”

“Will you stop that?” James said, shoving him away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I wish I could help it,” Sirius laughed back at him. “Sorry, mate. Dogs make the worst gentlemen.”

“Too right,” James said, tossing his cloak on the bed.

“You showed her the cloak?” Remus asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah. It was the only way I could convince her to stay until Christmas Eve,” James said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “We’ve got to tell her the rest, all about us -- the map, Regulus, Patronuses, the animal transformations -- “

“But -- but we’re all unregistered,” Peter said. 

“Speak for yourself,” Remus said.

"But,” Peter went on. “But there are penalties. If we confide our status in someone, they’d have to be -- ”

“Exactly,” James said. “Evans needs to be brought deep into our circle of confidence. If it's as bad a Regulus makes it seem, I can’t see how else she can survive what’s to come.”

The laughing and teasing with which his friends had met James at the door had disappeared completely. They stood quietly, blinking at their feet.

“You really believe everything Regulus says about -- about him?” Peter pressed. “You believe it enough to risk everything, for all of us?”

“She’s got no one else,” James said, his voice rising. “Everything good and precocious we’ve ever done came to us because we were being brave for someone else. That’s why you’re an animagus, Pete. Not because you were brilliant, but because Remus needed us. I’m asking we do it again, take another risk, but for Lily.”

Remus was nodding. “Yes. It’s the least I can do after all that’s been done for me.”

Sirius sank into a chair. “I like Evans,” he began. “But the fact is, if I don’t stand up to this Death Eater mess -- “ He paused, cinching his eyes closed. “If I don’t do something, somehow, it’s going to destroy my brother. I’ll frustrate the Death Eaters for Regulus first, Lily second. Either reason is far more than enough to risk myself.”

There was a moment of silence, a miserable tension. Peter sighed. “Well, I guess it’s settled then.”

“Is it?” James asked, staring him in the face. “Don’t be forced, Peter. Don’t just go along with it. You can go home to your family and leave us to it if you’d rather -- “

He squeaked a joyless laugh. “Yes, wouldn’t that be convenient for you.”

“Come now,” Remus said, throwing a long, skinny arm around Peter’s shoulders. “It’s not like that. The Marauders are nothing without a tail, our very finest Wormtail. Everyone knows that.”

Sirius was bawling his agreement, clamping his arms around both Remus and Peter, trying to lift the pair of them off the ground. There was grunting, laughing, and protesting before the three of them tumbled to the rug at James’s feet, hooting and swatting at each other.

“Alright, alright!” Peter said, shouting as he fought himself free of Sirius and Remus, clambering upright, standing with James, smiling as he rolled his eyes, pounding him on the back. “Go on then, Prongs. Do as you like.”


	2. Two

In blindingly bright sunlight, Lily Evans made her way along a pathway stomped into the snow across the grounds of the Potters’ manor house. The boys had got up early, rushed through a cabbage-free breakfast, and set off outdoors before Lily left her room. She could hear their voices now, loud and raucous at the end of the path.

She had been alone when old Euphemia Potter greeted her at the kitchen table where she’d sat with James the night before. She’d offered Lily prune porridge and told her how lovely it was to have young people in the house. 

Fleamont Potter had sat at the other end of the table, dozing in a sunbeam coming through the window, jarring himself awake with a snore. “Coffee, Effie?” he’d croaked.

“Right here, Monty,” she’d said, nudging his cup toward him. “And look here is Lily, the boys’ friend from school.”

“What? Well,” he’d said, “fair bit shorter than the rest of them, aren’t you.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected of James’s parents, but it wasn’t this. He was so much younger than them James seemed like a foundling child, or one of those miracle babies from the Bible or a fairy tale. The thought of his possibly charmed origins had her smiling as she came to the end of the path, to a wall of snow piled as high as her waist.

“Evans!” Sirius shouted in greeting from the other side as James came skidding toward her.

“Planning on a big snowball fight?” she asked, kicking lightly at the wall’s base.

“Not at all,” Remus said, beating the snow from his mittens. “Building a privacy shield. Somewhere we can share secrets. Don’t let old Monty fool you. He knows everything that goes on here.”

Lily raised her eyebrows at James. “Secrets? So they’ve agreed?”

“Yes, of course they have. They’re as concerned about you as I am,” James said.

But the rest of the boys laughed, Sirius clapping James on the back. “Don’t know that I’d go that far. But yes, Evans, we agreed it would be in your best interest if you learned to trust us.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “There is simply no way for him to say that without sounding smug. But he’s right, Lily. These are dangerous times. People need to keep each other close.”

Peter ground a heavy chunk of snow into the top of the wall, his face twitching with nervous energy. “Right. So let’s get on with it.”

When the wall was as high as Lily’s head, the building stopped. 

“Are you sure, Prongs?” Peter asked James. “I don’t think it’s quite high enough cover -- you know -- when you’re...”

“Well, we can’t wait much longer,” James said, taking off his wet gloves and handing out the mutton and watercress sandwiches Effie had packed for them. “The days are so short now, it’ll be too dark for her to see much of anything if we keep on building.”

Remus took a rather savage bite of his sandwich and then a huge breath. “I suppose it’s me who should start. Now Lily, I know you and Severus Snape were once close, and that he holds some strong opinions about me. But what exactly has he tried to tell you?”

James pulled at Lily’s arm, getting her to sit next to him on the log the boys had rolled into their snow structure. 

Perched on the log, she folded herself into a ball, grimacing a little as she said. “He tells everyone you’re a werewolf. You know that. And frankly, between the the scar on your face, all your time out of school, and the fact that Severus is not stupid, and that he is extremely cunning -- well, Remus, you tell me.”

He nodded. “Snape’s right. I was attacked as a child, and I’ve grown up a werewolf. Dumbledore risked a lot to bring me into the school.”

“A risk that paid off nicely, You’re the kindest boy at school,” Lily finished.

Remus wasn’t flattered, but troubled. He began to pace along the wall. “Kind. That’s not always true. If you ever find me transformed, run, protect yourself, kill me if you have to -- “

“Enough of that,” Sirius said. “I’ll take it from here. We decided old Moony needed looking after during his transformations. And to do that without having him kill us, we had to learn to un-human ourselves.” Sirius sat back, smirking, glancing with satisfaction at James and Peter, giving Lily a moment to work it out for herself.

“Un-human -- you’re animagi?” Lily said, her eyes wide. “All of you? That’s what’s behind all the rat jokes about Peter? He is actually a rat?”

Peter grinned, proud of his power in spite of his nerves. “A Norway rat, to be exact. Call me Wormtail.”

Lily looked at each of them in turn. “And you, Sirius, named for the dog star. You are literally -- “

“A dog, yes,” he said. “A dog of no purebreeding anyone could name. Something to scandalize my mother if she ever found out about my life as Padfoot, the big, black, gorgeous mutt.”

“But you can call him Snuffles,” James said. “Now go on and guess my transformation.”

Lily looked him over, from his dark tousled hair to his long legs stretched out in front of where he sat beside her. She hummed. “I reckon the need for glasses would rule out anything known for its piercing eyesight. No birds.”

Sirius was snickering. “James the blind mole, keeping Peter company down in the dirt.”

James shook his head. “No birds. No moles. Guess again.”

Lily hummed. “No birds, but you do have a knack for flying. Is it a bat?”

Peter made a hooting sound. “Spooky, like Moony.”

“Enough with the tiny creatures,” James said. “Try something bigger.”

“Oh, here he goes about size again -- “

“Alright fine then,” Lily went on. “Something bigger, and maybe related to your name, like Sirius’s dog. Potter, pot, pot-bellied pig?”

They were all laughing now -- all of them but James. 

“It’s not a pig?” Lily said. “They can get quite big -- “

“No, of course it’s not a pig. You’ll never guess. Just stand back,” James said.

It sounded too grand to be taken seriously, but the boys were giving him space. “You’re really going to do it? Right in front of her?” Peter said. He turned to Lily. “Might get racy. Sometimes the clothes don’t quite make it through the transformation process. I’ve lost more socks that way -- “

“Shut it, Pete,” Sirius said. “None of us has had a mishap with nudity in years -- in months, anyway.”

Remus slapped Peter on the back. “No worries, mate. I’ll cover her eyes if there’s any glimpse of a -- “

“You’re all stalling,” Lily interjected. “Let’s see it, whatever it is.”

James pocketed his wand and his glasses. He surveyed the space around him, and closed his eyes. Lily couldn’t tell if he’d started or not. There was no stretching or struggling, no shouting or contorting, or clothes ripping at the seams. His transformation happened in much the same way as their Professor McGonagall changed in and out of her cat form. He lunged forward, springing from his heels and landing on the ground on his hands and feet. And somewhere in the movement, he changed. James Potter no longer looked like a seventeen year old human, but like a large deer covered in a thick coat of brown winter hair. He was a stag with a rack of long, branching antlers. The eyes in his head were still big and brown, but different. James, but not James.

Lily didn’t know where to look, trying to see all of him -- the four long, thin legs, the bowed back, the bushy tufts on his neck and shoulders. She blinked at him. “By the stars,” was all she said.

Sirius smirked at her dumbfoundedness. “That’s our Prongs. Quite the eyeful, isn’t he? If he could talk, he’d be bragging about how he’s the largest native land animal in Britain.”

James bent his long neck to nuzzle the snow at her feet with his nose. His antlers framed her legs, as if he wanted her to notice them. Their texture seemed to be fuzzy. “Do they mind if untransformed people touch them?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the antlers.

“See for yourself,” Remus said.

Lily turned to find him scratching the ears of a great, shaggy black dog. He was a rather badly behaved animal, tossing his head between Remus’s hands, jumping up to put his wet paws on Remus’s chest, nearly knocking him over. 

Sirius, look at you,” she said.

“Yes, I know, Padfoot,” Remus said to the dog. “All the hair gets itchy. Yes it does. Yes it does. Now if you’d only hold still...”

Lily looked back at the antlers Prongs still held around her feet. With one fingertip, she touched the inner curve of one of the outer branches. It was soft, velvety. Prongs lifted his head and straightened up, stamping his hooves in the snow.

There was a squeal and a streak of brown-grey running along the base of the snow wall. “Wormtail,” Lily said aloud as he rushed by.

“That’s all of them,” Remus said, pushing Sirius’s head away. “You’ll understand if I don’t change myself. The effect is rather different. Far more murder in it.”

Prongs bolted into the open, Padfoot and Wormtail chasing after him, raising a cloud of snow.

“Honestly, lads!” Remus called. “What was the point of toiling over a snow wall all morning if you’re just going to -- “ He left off, frustrated but amused. “It’s no use. Impulse control is harder to manage outside a human form. It’s not just a werewolf problem.”

Lily stood beside him, still speechless as she watched Prongs and Padfoot circling each other in the field. From a distance, Wormtail was harder to see. That they’d learned to do this so well, without any help or coaching while still so young was remarkable. James hadn’t been bragging in vain when he’d told her the night before that they were talented. Truly, they were. 

It wasn’t only that James had been lucky enough to be born into a family that owned an invisibility cloak. No one had made James an animagus but himself. For all of them, it was something they’d cultivated for themselves.

From the snow fort, Remus watched them wistfully, as if he wished to join them. But his powers of transformation weren’t a talent. They were a curse. Lily still believed he was the kindest boy in school. But now she knew better why. He was kind because of the kindness shown to him by friends like these. It was touching. Lily felt it stirring her heart.

It might have been why she blurted out, “Does he really like me?” 

Remus startled. “What?”

“James,” she said. “His fancy for me, at this point, is it all just a tired old joke? I mean -- look at him. Look at this place. He’s the miracle child of a wealthy, noble family. He’s not starved for affection. He’s got amazing friends who’d do anything for each other. He’s smart, and the Quidditch captain, and then this magic of his -- it’s astounding. Why would he bother to like someone who was less than mad for him?”

Remus chuckled. “He’s mad enough for both of you. That’s clear. How can you ask this? There isn’t a soul who doesn’t know how James Potter feels about you. What are you playing at, Evans?”

“There’s no playing about it,” she said. “I think maybe one of the reasons I’ve done nothing but refuse him all these years is because part of me doesn’t believe he’s in earnest. Like it’s a game for him, isn’t it? And if he actually won, if I were to accept him, that might be the end of the game.”

Remus sighed. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I am,” she agreed. “All last night, in that guest room, I laid awake asking myself if it’s really me James wants, or if he just wants to win at something he started too long ago to quit.”

Remus nodded, his eyebrows raised. “And how would that make you feel? If James quit, and stopped trotting after you? If you let him catch you and he lost interest? You’re saying you’d be disappointed?”

She wouldn’t face Remus, but continued to watch the animagi gamboling in the snowy field as the sun started its slow bend toward the horizon. “I know now that I would be,” she said. “But that’s not to say I should be disappointed. My feelings -- they’re all wrong. So don’t tell him I’ve been thinking about it. Everything’s too confusing. I’m not sure what any of it means.”

He palmed the top of her head. “It’s not that complicated, Lily. Doesn’t it just mean that you must like James back, at least a little?”

She sighed heavily, bowing her head under Remus’s hand. “Of course I like him a little. We’re partnered as Head Boy and Girl at school. We have to get along now. And we do.“

“That is not what we’re talking about, and you know it -- “

“Actually, I have no idea what we’re talking about,” Lily said, turning her face up to smile wanly at him. “No idea at all.”

Something in James’s deer-brain remembered her and he came springing back toward where Lily and Remus waited. In his last bound toward them, he came out of the movement as human James again, rumpled but fully clothed, his hair and face wet, reaching into his coat for his glasses. 

For a second time, Sirius transformed so swiftly Lily didn’t see it happening. The black dog was gone and Sirius was back, fluffing his damp hair, sniffing it to make sure the scent of wet dog had transformed away with the rest of Padfoot. Wormtail darted behind the snow wall to change, stepping back into view slightly flustered, looking for a scarf he’d mislaid.

“So that’s us,” James said, blinking behind his glasses. “Are you alright with that, Evans?”

She nodded, her voice coming solemnly, as if in awe. “It’s brilliant. You’re all brilliant.”

James already knew that, but he was so unaccustomed to compliments from Lily, he blushed behind his cold reddened cheeks.

“And you say you’ve got more secrets yet to come?” she said.

“None so fine as this,” Remus answered. “What do say, lads, should we go inside and show her -- “

“No,” James said, far too loudly. “She gets to learn one secret a day. If we spill them all at once, she won’t have any more reason to stay.”

It was the kind of thing he said all the time -- the little, low-key confessions Lily had learned to take with a smirk, a roll of her eyes, maybe a groan. But this afternoon, it felt different. As he’d spoken about not wanting her to leave, her stomach had dropped and her heart had skipped, like she was flying a broom that had slipped out of control for a moment. 

She stood in the snow, watching James rub condensation from his glasses again. As he worked, his neck was bent, the way it had been last night, underneath the invisibility cloak when his voice had raised a shiver through her. She watched him in the low sunlight, his dark, well-formed eyebrows curving along the ridge of his forehead. Would his brows have the same velvet texture as Prongs’s antlers? 

Her mouth had gone dry, her heart gathering speed -- when a snowball smashed into the side of James’s head. Sirius was cackling, packing a second snowball, raising his shoulder to fend off one hurtling at him from Remus’s direction.

“Take cover!” James yelled to Lily. 

She wouldn’t, stooping instead to arm herself with snowballs, shouting out threats as she took a hit in the back. The wall was not going to waste after all. The battle was on.

\----------------------------------------

They were back in the manor, warm and dry, lounging in front of the fire in Effie Potter’s drawing room, digesting their dinner of cabbage rolls. The night was dark and sparkling outside. 

Old Monty was dozing again but Remus had warned Lily to never mention Prongs and the rest in front of the Potters no matter how sleepy they seemed. It was too frustrating for her, not being able to ask any of the questions she had about werewolves and animagi, so she stood up from where she’d been yawning over Remus and Peter’s game of chess and excused herself for the night.

Everyone wished her goodnight but no one offered to walk her to her room, not even James. At the door of the drawing room, she took hold of the handle, paused and looked back into the quiet, firelit room. James’s face was hidden behind a massive old book. It was some kind of atlas, one he had closed over his finger every time she came near him.

Too quietly for anyone to hear, she sighed and took one last look at the plain leather cover of the atlas screening her from James. As she did, the book tipped slightly. One lens of James’s glasses flashed into view. 

She was caught. He had seen her, watching him, waiting for him.

James was on his feet, setting the book aside and moving so quickly she almost expected him to transform back into a stag, right there on his parents’ hearth. 

“Mum, I’m going to make sure Lily has a good fire in her room for the night. It’s supposed to be bitter cold,” he said.

“Oh, isn't that nice, dear,” she beamed. “Go on then. It shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes. Here, I’ll time you.”

Lily followed James through the house, moving quickly against his mother’s clock, up the stairs and down the hall to the pretty room, decorated in lace, the one James had chosen for her the night before. He was in her room, kneeling at the fireplace grate, poking at the coals as if she might be helpless if they went out.

She crouched beside him, hugging her knees. “Thank you for the secret,” she said. “Definitely one worth knowing.”

He nodded at the flames. “It was fun. I think we’ve always wanted to tell someone,” he said. “Frankly, we’ve wanted to tell everyone. But for Remus’s sake we…”

James was the one who was speechless now, his voice trailing away as Lily eased her fingertip along the contour of his eyebrow. His throat bobbed as he watched her.

“It does,” she said. “Your eyebrow does feel like Prongs’s antler. That same fuzzy texture. Like velvet.”

He breathed a laugh, raising his own hand to touch his eyebrow. “Really? I don’t know what Prongs’s antlers feel like, actually. I never have them and fingers to feel them with at the same time.”

She smoothed his second eyebrow. “Well, now you know.”

He took her hand, pulling it away from his forehead and holding it between them. “Today was nice,” he said.

She let him keep hold of her hand. “It was,” she agreed.

He dragged his thumb across the silky soft skin of the top of her hand. His chest was rising and falling quickly as he found the breath to say, “It was so nice, it was almost sp -- “

All the clocks in the room began to chime, even the ones without bells, the noise growing louder every moment. James dropped Lily’s hand and waved goodbye. His ten minutes were up.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Are you reading this? Thank you! Let me know if you like it. This is cold, lonely work.

Lily sat up in bed at the Potters’ manor, heavy with a sense of dread and panic, as if something bad had happened and it was all her fault, as if she’d forgotten something and now someone she loved was in crisis over it. 

What was it? NEWTs weren’t for months. Potter and the lads were back in human form. Mum and Dad were living the life on their Swiss pre-Christmas trip. Petunia was --

PETUNIA.

Thirty hours earlier, Lily hadn’t waited until whatever unreasonable hour Petunia must have come with her grouchy new boyfriend to pick her up at Kings Cross. That in itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she hadn’t contacted Petunia since then to let her know she hadn’t been kidnapped. For all Petunia knew, she was floating face down in the Thames at this moment. What must she be going through right now, waiting for their parents to get home, no sign of their little Lily, wondering how she was going to break it to them? She might have called the Muggle police already. But at almost eighteen years old, would they even investigate Lily’s absence without something suspicious to tip them off?

Throwing on some clothes, Lily bolted down to the kitchen where the lads and the Potter family were well into their morning porridge.

“No worries, Lily dear,” Old Effie said at the sight of her crashing through the door. “No need to rush. There’s plenty of mush left for your breakfast.”

“Erm -- oh -- thank you, Madam Potter. It’s not that -- er -- James!”

He was already standing, rushing forward to smooth her uncombed hair. “What? What’s gone wrong?”

“Where’s the town? I need to get to a phone. A Muggle phone box,” she said, working to mime a rectangle with her hands. “They’re red, and metal, rather like lifts taken out of their shafts and set on the pavement.”

“I know them,” Sirius said. “There’s one in Godric’s Hollow for sure, standing right outside that tea shop with the snooty cat.”

“Sure, right there,” Remus agreed. “But what’s the emergency, Lily? Can we help?”

Relieved, Lily fell into a chair at the table. “No, I have to do it myself. I’m so stupid. I forgot to tell my sister where I was going. She has no idea I’m not lost or killed in London. She’s got to be mad with worry.”

“Yeah, well. She was the one that ditched you. Serves her right,” James said, catching Lily’s coat with one hand after having summoned it to the kitchen. 

Sirius growled. “That’s not how it works between siblings, James. You know that. You wouldn’t see me throwing Regulus into fits over nothing -- not for very long, at any rate.”

“Yes, you’d best be off to set your sister straight,” Effie said. “Here’s a scone with some jam for you to eat on the way, dear. Mind the cat, James. You’ll kick him straight across the floor and then your father will kick you.”

Monty broke out of his snoring over his coffee to mutter, “Oopsie, Jimsy. There’s a nice kitty.”

“Sorry, Mum,” James said, smacking a kiss against her cheek. “We’re off.”

“Aren’t the others coming too?“ she began.

A jumbled chorus of excuses rose up from the lads, about how they weren’t finished eating, and had to wash their hair, and fix their shoes, and on and on.

“You’ve got your apparation license too then? I’ve never been anywhere called Godric’s Hollow,” Lily said as they stepped onto the large veranda at the front of the house.

“Right, so we’re doing side-along,” he said.

Lily stood waiting as James looked her over from head to foot, not sure of the best way to take hold of her for the apparation.

“Oh, come on already, Potter,” she said, lunging toward him and holding him around his waist, her eyes level with his collar. “Don’t waste any more time.”

There was nothing for him to do but clasp his arms around her back. She had ducked her face into his shoulder to ward off the coming dizziness, and somehow it made his hand come up automatically to brace the back of her head, embracing her.

Come on, Potter, he told himself over an increasingly racing heart rate. Remember how it goes: Destination, Determination, Deliberation.

In a twisting rush they were standing in a street in a picturesque village crowded with Christmas shoppers. A brass band was playing carols somewhere nearby, and the air smelled of cut fir boughs and candle wax. 

Lily pushed free of James’s hold, scanning the area for the phone box. There it was, exactly as Sirius had described. She rushed toward it with James barely close enough to shut himself inside with her. 

She grunted as the door slammed closed, crushing into the wall opposite the phone itself. “Potter, it’s meant for one person.”

“What? Oh, sorry. I thought it’d be bigger on the inside. I’ll just -- oh dear -- “

“By the stars, Potter -- “

“I can’t get past you to open the door, unless you let me -- “

“I don’t have time for -- “

“Sorry. Make your call and ignore me. I’ll wriggle out once you’re connected.”

“Yes, but I can’t even reach the number pad around your enormous head.”

“Just tell me the numbers and I’ll push them.”

She snarled. “Fine, but you need to pass me the receiver first. The handle. No, the -- the grey talkie bit on the end of the cord.”

She caught the receiver as he dropped it over his shoulder. They got the numbers right on the first try. Off in Cokeworth, Petunia snatched up the house telephone on the first ring.

“Petty? Petty, it’s me.”

James could hear nothing but a high roar of indistinct chatter coming from the plastic cup Lily held against her ear.

She spoke over it. “No -- no, I’m. Yes, I’m sorry. I waited at the station for ages and then went home with some friends.”

She raised her finger to bite at her nail as another barrage came through the phone.

“Yes -- yes, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have called that night. I didn’t mean to wait so long. It’s all my fault. I did wrong, Petunia.”

Lily was quiet for what seemed like a long time. James felt her forehead brush against the back of his coat as she nodded along with the conversation, though Petunia couldn’t see her.

“No, that’s not it at all. I honestly just forgot. I was being stupid, not -- . No, of course not. I would never want you to feel that way.”

There was silence again, until at his back, James heard Lily sniff. “I’m so sorry, Petty. Please -- “

She was crying. The realization stabbed at James’s heart. Lily was crying while he stood and did nothing but be in the way. He reached behind himself and found her free hand, the one not holding the phone. He took it in his, curving it around his waist to hold it in both of his hands, hoping it reassured her that she wasn’t bad, and she deserved love, no matter what she’d done, or forgotten to do. 

Maybe Lily didn’t understand all of what he meant, but she let herself slump against him as she listened to her sister describe how terrified and guilty she’d felt during those hours when she didn’t know what had become of Lily. Petunia was crying too, loud and angry. She’d blamed herself for losing Lily, her worst big-sister nightmare made real.

“Tomorrow. Christmas Eve,” Lily said at last, still sniffing. “Yes, when Mum and Dad get back. I’ll be there then. Yes, they’re no one you know. In the West Country. Freaks, yeah. All of them. All of us.”

Her hand was shaking now, and James tightened his grip on it.

“Alright. Yes. And again, I’m sorry -- No -- Petty, I love you.” 

James heard a low, mechanical tone as the call went dead. He crushed the phone -- numbers sounding their tones, a recorded operator’s voice explaining that he hadn’t keyed his call correctly -- as he turned himself against it, coming around to face Lily. She dropped the receiver and it bobbed against James’s knee. He let it hang, crushing her against his chest, hushing her as her tears overtook her. She sobbed into the front of his coat, muffled by the wool and his body.

“She was so worried,” she hiccoughed.

“Of course she was, thinking she’d lost a sister like you,” James said, speaking into the crown of her head.

She scoffed through her tears. “She was afraid of telling our parents. She doesn’t care much about me.”

“If she doesn’t, then she’s a fool,” James said. “You made things right as soon as you could. You’re not perfect, but you’re not bad.”

“No, I’m self-centred and,” she looked up at his face, “easily distracted.”

It would have been elegant if he could have used his thumb to wipe a single, crystalline tear descending gracefully across a smooth white cheek, etching a gentle arc from one of her eyes. But Lily was a true redhead. Her face was a splotchy mess -- an adorable catastrophe. James hummed a laugh and used both of his palms to wipe her wet, red cheeks. He left his hands braced against her jaws as he finished. “Easily distracted? It wasn’t easy to distract you. Not in the least. I transfigured myself into a stag, for stars’ sake.”

She actually laughed, blinking back the rest of her tears, letting him continue to cradle her face in his hands. One corner of his smile twitched. He sighed as he let go of her face to wrap his arms around her shoulders again, pulling her close and dropping a kiss on the part of her hair, the first time he’d ever touched her with his mouth. It could be the last time too, for all he knew. But something about it came so naturally he had already done it before he thought to stop.

They both jumped when a noisy rapping rattled the phone box.

“Someone needs to use this,” Lily said, leaning away from him.

“Well, they needn’t be so rude about it.”

“Come on. They think we’re in here snogging.”

James huffed. “And what if we were? It’s not like that’s not important.”

“Just -- we’re going now, Potter.”

Back in the street, Lily stretched her arms, as if she’d just set down something very heavy. She was feeling better, but her complexion still hadn’t recovered from the crying.

James frowned. “Let’s get you a cup of tea before we go back to the manor. Mum is liable to suspect it was me, naughty Jimsy, that upset you, and keep me grounded in my room for the rest of the day just to be sure. No, I’m not taking you back looking anything less than content as a cat.”

She went along with it, following him across the pavement to the tea shop Sirius had said would be there. He was right about the cat being unfriendly. It blinked down lazily at them from atop a high bookcase.

“I saw you eyeing that cat. Did we get to you?” James asked once they were settled at the table nested into a window seat with their tea. “Did you spend all night wondering what animal your animagus form would take? Hoping it was something feline?”

“No, actually,” she said. “I admire all of you immensely for putting in the work to do it yourselves, but turning into an animal doesn’t interest me as a personal goal. I wonder why not.”

James raised both his eyebrows, slightly stunned at the idea of someone smart enough and gifted enough to become an animagus not immediately setting about doing it. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s the animal thing,” she said. “I’ve never had much of an interest in magical creatures, let alone becoming one myself.”

“What about a Patronus?” James pressed. “You must be able to conjure one. Doesn’t it have a corporeal, animal form?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I’ve never tried to conjure one.”

James fell back in his seat as if struck by a spell. “Why ever not?”

“It’s just another area of magic I’ve never been that interested in. Defense Against the Dark Arts -- it’s not a real discipline, is it? More like just a collection of charms and transformations with a similar purpose,” she said. “Now potions -- that is a discipline. Good for turning back dark arts too.”

James groaned. “Spoken like Slughorn’s golden girl.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be jealous, Potter.”

“So, what else are you interested in? Arithmancy?” James shuddered at the word as he said it.

“I thought you did well in Arithmancy?” she said.

“Yes, I do fine. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.”

Lily nodded. “I only like Arithmancy inasmuch as it’s a kind of Divination. Same with Astronomy. They’re specialties of my true favourite discipline.”

“Which is divination? Really,” James said, in a drawling, sceptical kind of way. “What have you managed to divine so far?”

“No major prophecies yet,” Lily answered. “But I am a spectacular interpreter of dreams.”

“What about tea leaves?” he asked, handing her his empty cup.

“These are in a bag, James.”

“Right.”

She set down the cup with a clang. “I can’t read a squashed mess in a soggy bag. No one can. You’ve never even tried divination, have you?”

“I prefer to live in the now,” he smirked.

“Well, there’s an entire wing of the Department of Mysteries full to the ceiling with shelf upon shelf of prophecies stored in glass orbs. We visited on a field trip this year. Our society has a lot invested in divination. There’s got to be something to it,” she said.

“Here, I’ll tell you what.” James sidled closer to her, crowding her corner of the window seat. “I’ll give divination a chance if you agree to try some new magic for me.”

She blinked. “I refuse to turn myself into a cat for Sirius to chase around. Remus already warned me about reduced impulse control while in animal form.”

“A cat?” James said, taken aback. “No, Peter would hate that. All I want,” he resumed, “is for you to conjure a Patronus. It’s not just out of idle curiosity either. The way things are going, with the Death Eaters acting up, you may wind up needing one someday. I’d feel much better if you didn’t have to conjure one for the first time with a Dementor breathing down your throat.”

She patted his hand where it lay on the tablecloth. “There, there, Potter. I’ll let you teach me Patronuses. Maybe there’s still hope for a cat for Sirius there. Now what will you learn from me?”

“Let’s do the tea leaves after all,” he said, raising a finger to trace a vine painted on her teacup. “Are yours in a bag?”

She faced him with a broad, genuine smile that made his cheeks colour slightly. “What a nice idea. No, mine is exactly the right kind of tea. Let’s have a look.”

James happily inched further into her space. Their heads close together as Lily took up her cup. “This is tasseography,” she said. “I take my cup in my left hand, swirl it -- “

“Counter-clockwise?”

“Of course. Then we flip it over on the saucer. Wait.”

“How long?”

“Just enough. Like so. And then we turn it upright, always moving from the right-hand side.”

“Isn’t that what upright means?”

“Don’t be smart, Potter.” She tossed her head and said, “Now, the key is not to overthink. For me, this is the hardest part of tasseography. Try to trust the impressions that come to you quickly, naturally as you read. Ready?”

She turned the cup over.

James hummed, as if thinking hard.

“The rim of the cup tells the present,” she said. “The middle is the near future, and the bottom is the distant future.”

“There’s nothing on the bottom of yours though,” he said, squinting into the cup. “Dying young, are you Evans?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Be serious, Potter. It means there was still too much liquid in the bottom of my cup when I turned it upside down. I should have known better. This reading is wasted.”

“Now wait a moment,” James said, holding back her hand as she moved to set the cup aside. “Right here by the rim, that’s a heart. I may be just a beginning tasseographer, but even I know what a heart is meant to symbolize -- “

“Don’t, Potter -- “

“Evans, you’re in love.” He said it far too loudly, most of the shop full of older Muggles turning to look at them, as they sat framed by the sunlight coming through the window, shining like the memories the Muggles themselves had of when they were part of the magic of being young and wondering about love.

Lily snatched the cup from him. “That is not a heart. It’s a triangle. It means unexpected good fortune.”

“It is a heart,” James insisted. “And even if it was a triangle, that doesn’t rule out the unexpected, good fortune of finally realizing you’re in love.”

She set the cup upside down in the saucer. It clattered loudly enough for everyone to turn and look at them again.

James sat back, folded his hands in his lap, and watched himself threading and rethreading his fingers. “Alright, I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no idea how to read tea leaves, obviously. I mean, I hope not. If I do, then you have no distant future and that’s too awful. I wouldn’t choose you being in love right now over you getting to live out a long, proper life later on.”

She smirked and leaned closer, still joking. “Well then I’m not the girl for James Potter, the boy who risked becoming an unregistered you-know-what just to ease the suffering of a good friend. No, James, the girl who gets you in the end will definitely be someone you’d love in spite of death.”

He looked up from his hands. “Maybe that’s it, Lily. Maybe no matter who we are, or how noble or brave we are to begin with, maybe all anyone can do is love in spite of death. Look at my parents. They’ve lived a good long life together, a charmed life. And every morning when my mum turns over in bed, she knows she may very well find my dad dead. Not because life is particularly tragic, but just because that’s what life is.”

She looked at him as long as she could bear it, until she felt like it was showing in her face -- the tenderness she felt for him when he spoke this way about the love in his family, between his parents, the love he would bring forward with him into the family he would make for himself. Why did it warm her like this?

Ridiculous, she thought to herself. Ridiculous at seventeen for the pair of them to be talking about death and eternal love as if either of those things had anything to do with them.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “you still owe me a proper reading. We’ll come back to it another time.”

“Right,” James agreed, pulling what looked alarmingly like a broken shard of glass out of his pocket. “For now, we’d best head back to the manor. Sirius has been signalling me for a good half hour.” He looked into the glass. “Oh no. Mum is making them help her with a hundred Christmas cards she needs to get out by tonight.”

Lily laughed. “What good boys. How bad can that be?”

“Have you ever seen a howler?” he asked. “Wizard Christmas cards are a lot like them, only they belt out Christmas cheer instead of threats. Equally messy to send. Almost equally unpleasant to receive.”

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go rescue the boys.”

“And after we’ve finished with that,” James smirked. “We’ll be happy to show you our next secret.”


	4. Four

It was a good day to reveal a sit-down secret. After a morning of cramming Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s shrill, last minute Christmas greetings into their howler-like mailers, the lads were exhausted. And a morning of crying in public over sisterly drama always took the spark out of Lily. When lunch was over, the students were perfectly content to disappear into the Potters’ library.

At the centre of the room was a massive circular table etched with a map of the world. Resting on top of it, as if in readiness, was the large, leather-bound book James had been reading by the drawing room fire the night before.

The tone of the library was solemn, but the lads draped themselves haphazardly over the ornately carved wooden chairs all the same. 

Again, it was Remus who began. “Alright, Lily. What do you know about magical map-making?”

“I can make a fine star-chart,” she said. “Never tried to map anything terrestrial though. Is this really your next great secret? A map?”

“Yes, actually,” Sirius said. He reached into his jacket, produced a folded parchment, and tossed it onto the tabletop. “Here it is.”

James pulled the parchment to where he sat next to Lily. She took it from him, turning it in her fingers. “It looks blank. What’s the spell to make the ink visible?”

James groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “You must understand that we were all of fifteen years old when we made it.”

Remus gave her a cringing smile. “It's a bit fanciful and braggartly, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Peter said. “Tap it with your wand and say, ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’”

Lily laughed. “By the stars, that is so…”

“Just give it here,” Peter said, repeating the incantation. As he did the title page came into view. James snatched it back.

“The Marauders’ Map,” Lily read. "What marauders are those?"

“That's what we used to call ourselves,” Sirius sighed. “Not a word, Evans. Just open it up. Get to the genius part.”

James hovered over Lily’s shoulder, supervising as she opened the map on the table. “Recognize it?” he said.

“Hogwarts,” she said. “It's unmistakable. And it’s got everything, right down to the portraits. Only, what are all these funny little hatches and tubes?”

James stood back, beyond being embarrassed by his fifteen year old self, now proud of him. “Passageways, tunnels, most of them unknown to everyone but Filch and us. We pored over every bit of the castle in ridiculously fine detail never before brought together in a single document.”

Remus dropped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “And it was thanks in large part to having a rat’s eye view of the place.”

Sirius seemed to bristle. “But the mapping of it was only the beginning. Note the movements.”

Lily had already noticed the map’s staircases moving like they did in real life. It was Christmas holidays and the school was sparsely populated but there were still a few people there, each of them represented by a dot, most of which were also moving. “It’s Filch,” she gasped, watching a mark labeled with his name roaming a corridor, complete with a smaller tick for his cat. “All the teachers are there.”

“It’s a completely different picture when classes are in,” Sirius said. “The map is loaded with markers then. Every student, every familiar, every ghost accounted for and traceable at any moment.”

Lily stepped back. “That’s astounding. How did you do it?”

“There was quite a bit of luck involved,” James confessed, opening the atlas alongside their map. “This atlas has the same kind of moving maps in it. See? It's badly outdated and hardly working anymore, but in its time this atlas was a wonder. Seemed like a shame to leave good magic like this mouldering in a book in my father's library.”

“And so, our ever enterprising Potter studied the book and came to notice that at the back of the atlas was a blank flyleaf, a sheet of parchment just as magical as the rest but without a map pre-drawn onto it,” Remus said. “All he had to do was cut it out and bring it to school to make our map. It works on the old book's nicked magic, a rat's eye view, and our ever ready wits.”

Lily was nodding, staring at the map. “Oh look, there’s Dumbledore’s mark. Where is he going? Oh -- oh dear, he’s heading for the loo.”

Sirius snickered. “Yeah, it’s thorough magic alright.”

James was watching Lily as her look of wonder became one of worry. He pounced, trying to turn it back. “We can’t really spy on anyone with it,” he said. “Everyone just looks like a black dot. No features or curves. Nothing too telling.”

“Maybe it's not for spying, but you can certainly stalk people with it,” she said, her voice rising but cold. “You have done, haven’t you? This explains why every time I’m alone with a boy, Potter here will just happen to stumble into us.”

James was sputtering. “What it explains is how every time Avery and Mulciber try to corner you for some Death Eater harassment, I turn up to run them off. I wish I could trust Snape to keep them in line, but -- “

“Fifth year,” Lily interrupted. “Did you say you finished making this in fifth year? The year of the Triwizard Tournament?”

The rest of the lads had fallen silent as soon as Lily said the word ‘stalk.’ When they realized James had no choice but to step into the trap of admitting they’d had the map during the tournament, the room grew quieter than ever.

“You had it at the tournament,” Lily went on, “including the Yule Ball.”

James’s shoulders were rising, as if to swallow his head. Lily was rounding on him, her forefinger poking at his chest. “The Yule Ball when my first kiss was rudely interrupted -- “

James exploded. “That fur-wearing, stick-wielding Zako bloke had no right to mash his mustached mouth on you.”

Lily was aflame in return. “His name is Zdravko and you, James Potter, have no right to have an opinion on whose mouth comes anywhere near me.” She dropped her finger and folded her arms, tossing her head. “Especially not back then.”

He barked a pained laugh. “So you admit it’s different now, do you?”

She ignored the remark, keeping to her own line of attack. “And the way you interrupted us, Potter. Did he tell you how he did it, lads? I’m sure he did. Bragging about it.”

All of them were shrinking into their collars now, remembering. Sirius had been the one who noticed Lily’s dot overlapping one of the Durmstrang boy’s out in the courtyard during the ball. The rest of them put miserable James up to sabotaging it. But it was no good mentioning that.

“He didn’t intrude on my one and only first kiss with some falsely polite ‘oh pardon me, Zdravko, I didn’t realize there was anyone in this shady, romantic courtyard alcove.’ Oh, no. Not James Potter. He came crashing through a hedge, French kissing that Beauxbatons tart in the strapless ballgown -- “

“Suzette is a very nice person,” James managed to choke in his defense. “And how frustrated do you think a man can get before he snaps and snogs someone else, Evans? You’re my crush, not my vow of chastity. And stars know I’m neither of those things to you -- ”

“Enough!” Remus called over both of them. “Stop this right now before someone gets well and truly hurt. What a shame. You both came back from your morning in town glowing with the good feelings between you, and now listen to yourselves.”

“Seven years of this,” Sirius said, getting to his feet before either James or Lily could argue any further. “Seven years of watching this bizarre dance between the pair of you. We are all exhausted with it.”

James and Lily each had their eyes cast down at the table, neither of them noticing that Sirius and Remus had drawn their wands.

“Well, I’m sorry, mate,” Sirius said. “But you’ll thank us in the end.”

"Wha -- ”

There was a flash of wordless stupefy spells. Sirius caught Lily as she slumped toward the table, while James toppled onto Peter, both of them splayed on the floor. 

“Carefully now,” Remus whispered as they inched out of the library. Sirius had Lily bent in half and slung over his shoulder. Remus held James under his arms while Peter carried his feet. “It wouldn’t do for Effie to catch us tossing Jimsy stupefied into his own cellar.”

They made it through the hall, past the kitchen, and into the narrow stone steps leading to the cellar beneath the oldest part of the manor. The iron grate over the entrance creaked and clanged as Sirius eased it open. James muttered and tossed between the hands that held him.

Remus gestured with his chin toward the wall where they set the pair of them sitting up, Lily’s head leaning on James’s shoulder. Once they were safely on the other side of the locked grate, Sirius and Remus reversed the stupefaction and waited while James and Lily woke up.

“What are you playing at, Sirius?” James called, still a little groggy, helping Lily get to her feet.

“You two need to sort yourselves out once and for all,” he said. “Everyone is leaving for home tomorrow morning so now is the time. Stay down here until you’re friends again, or -- whatever else you can peacefully negotiate.”

“Talk about your feelings,” Remus said. “Don’t be proud.”

“Tell the truth,” Peter added.

And with that, they went up the stairs, leaving James and Lily alone. As soon as the lads were out of sight, the cellar went completely dark. Lily gasped and James grabbed for her hand. 

“Don’t panic,” he said. “I think they’ve left me my wand.”

It was true, and in an instant it was glowing between them.

Lily laughed. “They’ve left me mine too. Those daft gits. What’s stopping us from marching over to the door and letting ourselves out?”

James laughed too. “Tough love indeed. Shall we humour them a little? I mean, I am sorry about the map. I was a stupid kid and I wasn't thinking -- ”

Lily groaned. “Forget it, Potter. And stop. I refuse to have a forced talk about feelings while they wait somewhere with their fingers crossed. I hate that.”

“Me too,” he said, kicking at the stone floor with the toe of his shoe. “But you know, looking at this long, empty space down here, I think it might be a good place for us to do that Patronus practice you promised me.”

“Oh,” she chirped. “Yeah, alright.”

James began with a brief review of Patronuses. It was nothing Lily didn’t already know but it did serve to reorient her. “Good feelings are the main thing,” he finished up. “Good feelings are stronger than bad ones, mad as that seems at times. Good feelings, confidence, flick of the wand, proper pronunciation of the incantation.”

“Right. And if it works, we'll see misty animals,” Lily restated.

James squirmed a little. “Probably. The corporeal animal form is advanced. Don’t be discouraged if you don’t get it at first. In all this time, Peter has never actually produced an animal. I think Remus could do one, but he’s afraid it might turn out to be a werewolf so he holds back. Can hardly blame him. I imagine it would be hard to channel your best feelings when brought eye-to-eye with your own personal curse.”

Lily hummed. “Sirius then. Is his Patronus a dog, like Padfoot?”

James nodded in the dim light of his wand. “Yes. Dogs are strongly connected to his name and identity. It makes sense.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why a stag for you then? What does it have to do with your identity?”

James let out his breath. “I don’t know. Ever since I first saw it, I’ve been looking for something to connect me to deer, stags, anything with four legs, really. But it never comes to me. It’s like a missing piece in a mystery about myself.”

She reached up to smooth his eyebrow again. “You don’t think it’s just the velvety-ness of your eyebrows and antlers?” she teased.

James smirked, but not without an edge of nerves. “Who knows? It’s the best lead I’ve had so far,” he joked in return.

“Well, can I see your Patronus? Maybe I’ll notice something about it you haven’t. I mean,” she said, waving an arm into the darkness, “if you think you can actually produce the good feelings you need for a Patronus down here, held captive in a dark pit by your best mates.”

His smirk was now a smile. “Sure I can. You’re here.” 

And without waiting for her to reply, James called the incantation and flung a bright white jet from the end of his wand. It swirled once about the cellar, lighting the cold, earthy walls, before resolving into the familiar form of a stag, like Prongs only shining and ephemeral.

Even though she'd been expecting it, the sight of the stag was no less overwhelming for Lily. She took James's arm, steadying herself.

At her touch, James jolted into action again. “Alright, now you,” he said while Lily was still dazzled, watching the luminous creature he'd conjured trotting away, dissipating back into darkness. 

James had shifted to stand behind her, his arm running the length of hers, his hand closed around her wrist. Once again, his face was next to hers as he stooped to bring his head level with hers. “Say the incantation before the light of the first one fades away.”

James Potter’s voice was in Lily's ear, his breath on her neck, the warmth of his chest and arm along her back and shoulder. He was kind, brilliant, beautiful, beloved by his friends, and still had a lot to learn about women. All of this was bursting through Lily Evans's heart, and perhaps no one had ever been in a better state than her to cast a perfect, corporeal Patronus on their first attempt.

Lily’s wand jumped as she called the incantation. White light filled the cellar, and as it whirled and flashed, a shape came into view. It was smaller than the first Patronus, without antlers, less shaggy at the shoulders. It was the doe to James’s stag.

Her grip went slack around her wand and it clattered to the floor. The doe went on anyway, chasing after the fading trail the stag had left a moment before. 

Lily turned to find James’s face in the dark, still poised over her shoulder, not watching the doe anymore, but fixed on her.

"James," she said, almost a whisper. "Is this special?"

"Yes." He breathed the word against her lips.

She tipped her chin ever so slightly and felt the light touch of his mouth on hers. Her breath drew in sharply and he followed in its slipstream, bringing them together. He opened only slightly at first, warm and faintly wet. When she parted her lips in return he couldn't hold back his voice, low in his throat, without words. It was a vulnerable sound, no arrogance in it. It was his true voice and he couldn't be embarrassed by it. This was Lily, the missing piece in the mystery of himself, what he’d been matching, mirroring all this time without knowing it.

She turned in his arms, bringing them face to face as James’s hands slid around around her waist and back. She had pulled his glasses off his face and they were closer than ever, one of her hands lost in the hair at the back of his head. 

He had a sense that his hands were shaking, pressed hard against her back, pushing his chest into hers, lifting her onto her toes. He raised one hand, gliding underneath her hair, to the warm nape of her neck, his fingers curling into her hairline. He changed the tilt of his head as he tipped her neck, coming into her more hungrily, too much for a first kiss yet so natural between them. Natural, but not like something ordinary. Natural like a hurricane. 

He felt the same shaking of his own hands in her as he held her. Or was something else shaking through her, something vibrating, humming through both of them as they came together this way. Was it all just him, or did she feel it too?

There was a quiet crack as she tipped away. His sigh at the loss of contact between their mouths was vocal and tortured, but she held him as tightly as ever, her eyes closed, her forehead still pressed to his lips. Her voice was low, speaking between them as if it belonged to someone else.

"There isn't much time," her voice said.

"No, not much time," his voice agreed.

"Don't leave us."

"Never."

"James."

"Lily."

Her low voice was breaking, as if she was shouting into a high wind. "And," she began, "And…"

James could almost feel a wind too. He ducked his face into the crown of her head, shielding her head with his arms. All he wanted was to hear the rest of what she would say. This was what she’d worked her entire life for. This was prophecy. In his arms, through the connection of their kiss, Lily Evans had been transfigured into a seer. He had been her partner in it, with each answer he'd given her.

What were they telling each other? James, Lily, and...Who? 

The wind was fading, if it had ever truly been there. The vibration was subsiding until their own heaving breaths were the only things left shaking them. James stooped to kiss her cheeks, her breath hot on his face.

"Was that a…a prophecy?" she said.

"Yes, I think so," he answered.

“How will we know for sure?” She leaned back, looking up at him, letting him ease his glasses out of her clenched hand as he considered her question. 

With his glasses on, he smoothed her hair and kissed her again, meaning for it to be quick, like a thank you for holding his glasses. But it took nothing for him to get caught up in the taste and scent of her, lost in a deep kiss until she broke away again to say, “What’s that?” 

She summoned something glowing on the ground near their feet. It was a glass orb about the size of a snitch, a luminous grey smoke shifting inside of it. “It’s a prophecy orb,” she said. “Like they store at the Ministry.”

James left one arm clasped around her waist but freed one hand to touch the cool glass of the orb with his fingertip as she held it in her palm. “What did any of that mean? I know how it felt but -- you’re the diviner. What are we supposed to do now?”

She pocketed the orb. “I won’t pretend to understand all of it. But I think at least one thing is clear. We’re supposed to be together, and stay together.”

At that, James was happy enough to laugh softly against her neck as he held her close. He wanted to say mad things, ridiculous things about love and soulmates and forever. He wasn’t quite eighteen, he had kissed this girl for the first time just minutes ago, and still it was all brimming inside him. He hardly trusted himself to speak.

He hadn’t noticed how dark the cellar had got until Lily pulled him by the hand toward the light coming through the bars of the iron door. “Come on,” she said. “We can at least go find the lads and tell them we’ve -- how did they put it -- sorted ourselves out.”

He laughed again. “Have we? What exactly do we tell them?”

He saw her silhouette shrug in the light of the door as she walked toward it, glancing over her shoulder at him as she towed him by the hand. “To start, we can just say that from now on you are mine.”

James leapt at her, hugging her from behind, almost like a tackle, speechless but humming his approval into her ear. He was already desperate to kiss her again, nuzzling at her throat as they went.

She lifted her wand to charm the lock on the door, but it creaked open on its hinges, letting them through by itself. They weren't alone. James dragged his face away from Lily’s skin, straightening his posture, but taking hold of her hand again as they stepped into the light of the stairwell. 

Waiting at the top wasn’t Sirius or Remus or even Peter. It was Euphemia Potter herself.

"Mum -- ”

“Come along, Jimsy, and bring your sweetheart,” she said. “We have an awful lot to talk about.”


	5. Five

“Come along, Jimsy,” Euphemia Potter called down to her son from the top of the cellar stairs. “Bring the sweetheart with you. We’ve an awful lot to talk about.”

She waited until James and Lily started up the stairs, James’s hand pressed discreetly to the small of Lily’s back, before she turned and led them not toward the dining room where the rest of their friends had been instructed to start dinner without them, but farther along the south wing of the manor, to Fleamont Potter’s study.

“Monty, dear,” Effie called as she let all of them inside. “I’ve brought them. Wake up, now.”

Fleamont coughed himself awake. “Ah yes, Jimsy and the sweetheart.”

“Lily, Dad,” James corrected him, blushing and ducking his head, but taking Lily’s hand all the same.

“Yes. Yes, come as close to the desk as you can. Mother and I have something to show you.” There was a rustling of parchment as Fleamont fought to unroll the large scroll. The struggle might have been an awkward sight, even sad, if he hadn’t suddenly swiped his hands sharply in opposite directions, forcing the scroll to open and flatten magically, perfectly.

The scroll was a star chart -- a massive one, finely and lovingly made, its figures in constant motion, not unlike James’s map of Hogwarts. At the head of the paper, as a title, were three words: James Euphemius Potter.

“What no one remembers anymore, is that your father and I met while working as diviners,” Effie began. “It was a first career for both of us, and we each quit it on the very same day too. The study of divination was what brought us together, Jimsy. That and a shared bottle of mead in a remote observatory in Peru. We sat in starlight and drew a chart of the life we could have together, agreed that it was more than satisfactory to both of us, and that was that. Not the grandest of love stories, but here we are.”

Fleamont sputtered. “Why, it’s the grandest love story of them all. Our lives were mapped out with precision, right before our eyes, and we chose each other anyway. You were there on the chart too, Jimsy. We saw that you’d be coming to us late in life, and without any brothers or sisters. It would be hard to wait, sad for you to be raised by such old, feeble people, all alone. But the rest of what was on the chart made it worthwhile. That and the smiles of this woman, plying me with mead on a mountaintop...” He trailed into a warm chuckle.

Effie patted her husband’s hand where it lay on the desk. It was sweet, moving enough that James and Lily listened closely, not yet trying to read the star chart in front of them, the one Effie and Monty had drawn much later, here in the West Country, for their long awaited only son.

Monty covered Effie’s hand with his own. “Now to your chart, Jimsy. This one. Love and family came late for your parents, but so early for you. We knew it would, but this -- this is far earlier than we expected -- “

“But Dad, Lily and I have only just -- “

“The seven years,” Monty crowed over James’s protest, as if making an announcement. “We thought the seven years you’d spend in an unrequited love would begin at about the age your are now. Perhaps later, after school. But you were always such a bright boy, precocious, advanced in your development. And true to that, you went and began your seven-year unrequited love much, much younger than expected.” He ended with a small, somehow pained smile, no chuckle. “We always thought,” Monty paused, clearing his throat as if his voice was failing, “we always hoped there would be more time.”

Lily’s hand tightened around James’s. Time -- not much time, just like in the prophecy sealed in glass in the pocket of her cardigan. 

James jumped in his seat. “What time, Dad? Time for what? What does this mean?”

But Monty had fallen silent again, as if exhausted. Effie took up the story. “We drew Jimsy’s chart right here in this study, as soon as I could get out of bed after his birth. His is an auspicious horoscope indeed. And he has grown up according to it in nearly every way. The cleverness, the mischief, his health and athleticism.” 

She took up a quill and pointed at the chart. “Look here, by Orion, there is this little reindeer, coinciding with Jimsy learning an extraordinary magical skill he doesn’t believe we know about. And here was where he had his brush with Pluto, and fell from a broom in a match to break his leg. And then of course,” she said, waving a hand over the cluster of stars around his, “we see those lovely lads, racing through the cosmos with our JImsy in place of the brothers we couldn’t provide. The four of them together, for now...”

“The twin star,” Monty blurted, his voice rising again. “That was what was most striking about our Jimsy’s chart. A second star. By it, we could tell he would be a man with a soulmate -- “

There it was on the chart, a star the same size and brightness as James’s central one, orbiting his, orbited by his.

“Now, the mere existence of a soulmate is not altogether uncommon,” Effie was quick to interject as she saw Lily’s face flushing. “Many people have a born soulmate. But that isn’t nearly enough. It always takes some making. The world is so large and full now, few soulmates ever meet. And of those who do, many never know it -- not strongly enough to act on it. You see, dears, in the end, all soulmates are made. All soulmates choose one another.”

In Effie’s pause, James and Lily didn’t dare look at each other, but he continued to hold tightly to her hand.

“And they can be unmade,” Effie went on. “There’s no need to be alarmed, sweetheart. All the choices in the cosmos are still yours. You see the chart moving. It is always moving, against our will, yes, but sometimes according to our will.”

“Seven years,” Monty called out again.

“Yes, the chart says Jimsy will meet his soulmate but he will be refused. He will then strive for seven years in unrequited love before she accepts him. And those seven years have ended today, here in this house,” Effie said. “You needn’t blush to hear we already know it, Jimsy. The house has been in your father’s family for almost a thousand years. Nothing happens here without the house bringing him a sense of it. And for some days now...”

“You’ve been spying on us?” James was sputtering. “Not just this Christmas holiday, but for my entire life, my father’s been spying on me?”

“Serves you right,” Lily muttered beside him.

“A sense, Jimsy,” Effie said. “Dad only gets a sense, not an explanation, not a vision.”

Monty was interrupting. “Enough. The child. Tell them about the child.”

“I’m getting to it, Monty dear,” she said. “But first, there is something that needs to be said of having, then finding, then accepting a soulmate. In most lives, the greatest pain comes from disappointment and betrayal, large and small, in intimate relationships meant to be lifelong. Soulmates lack much of this.” She paused, resting both of her hands on the chart, her fingers splayed over its stars and comets. “In return for this uncommon happiness and harmony, soulmates owe the cosmos a debt.”

“A child,” Monty insisted, louder than ever.

“Not always a child,” Effie said. “But they owe a service, an offering. And for Jimsy, yes, the stars say that will be a child.”

Lily moved to pull her hand out of James’s. He gripped it tighter but his skin was wet with sweat and she slid away. “Excuse me, Madam Potter,” she said, “I do like James but I’m still in school. It’s nothing personal, but I’ve certainly no intention -- “

“No, of course you don’t, sweetheart,” Effie said. “The intention will come at the right time, if you stay with our Jimsy. If you leave him, the intention will never come. The child will never come. And then…”

Effie left the rest unspoken. 

But Monty would not. “Great chaos and danger is upon our world,” he said. “A child will end it. Our child. The child of James and his soulmate. Read it here in the stars -- “

“Stop it, Dad,” James was saying. “Mum, how can you let him go on like this? What’s he even saying? That we’re running out of time to make Lily into a pregnant schoolgirl, the mother of some Chosen One grandbaby Dad’s been waiting for my whole life?”

“Now, there’s no need to blurt it out like that,” Effie said.

“But that is what the pair of you are trying to say, isn’t it?” he demanded. “You don’t deny it?”

“You needn’t worry about any of it, Jimsy,” Effie said, rising to take his hands. “But in choosing whether to accept your soulmate or not, we thought you should know that a gift like this doesn’t come for free. If you keep your sweetheart, there will be a price to pay. A price of trouble and sorrow and -- and loss.”

For the first time in his life, James yanked his hands out of his mother’s grip. “Accept her? Me accept Lily Evans? There isn’t any question there. And I won’t manipulate her with some story about babies who need to save the world. She can do as she likes, but as for me -- as if I could choose anything but to beg Lily to accept me -- “

“Soulmate talk,” Effie said, her back turned to James as she returned to Fleamont’s side of the desk. “There’s nothing for it, Monty. He’s already chosen. Go have your tea, James, while I deal with your father.”

Monty slumped behind his desk, quiet, hunched lower than usual, his shoulders trembling, breath noisy. He looked delicate, beaten.

All at once, James was afraid for him. “Dad?” he called as Effie waved him and Lily out of the room a second time. “You’re not -- “

“Our boy,” Monty rasped. “So little time for our boy.”

Effie’s magic surged against them and Lily and James were swept like sails on a windy lake across the smooth wooden floor and out of the study. For a moment, they stood speechless before the closed door.

“Come on,” James said, taking Lily’s arm, moving at a brisk walk away from the study, toward the central hall. “Don’t listen to any of that. Diviners? Almost eighteen years as their son and never in that time do they mention working in divination, or of having my destiny written on a map stashed in Dad’s desk. It’s ridiculous. It’s -- “

“It’s James and Evans!” Sirius was calling to them, stepping out of the dining room with Peter and Remus. “We were just coming to let you out of the cellar, before dinner was over.”

“Thanks,” James said, dropping his hand from Lily’s arm. “But Mum already came to fetch us. We were just -- ”

“How was your one-to-one chat?” Peter asked, his elbow poking at James’s ribs. “Get everything sorted?”

Remus leaned back on his heels, regarding James and Lily with narrowed eyes. “Yes. Is everything alright?”

James flinched, as if bracing for a blow, his head down, hands clenched into fists, swallowing but not speaking. Everyone heard him gasp as Lily wound an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his bicep.

“Everything’s not alright,” she said. “But James and I are together now.”

There was a roar of congratulations as the lads rushed forward to hug James, separating him from Lily as they pounded on his back and punched at his sides, laughing and cheering. He couldn’t help but grin in return.

“Nothing like a good snog alone in the dark, eh James?” Sirius said.

“For stars’ sake, be a gentleman,” James groaned.

“Well, whatever happened down there, you’ve still got to eat,” Peter was saying, towing James by the wrist toward the dining room.

Remus was finally laughing along, pushing James after Peter by the backs of his shoulders. “Yes, listen to your inner rat, and follow your outer rat to dinner.” 

In the dining room, Peter made a great show of pulling out a chair to seat Lily, and instead of returning to his seat, Sirius strolled to Fleamont Potter’s massive cabinet of liquors.

“This is truly a momentous occasion, one our entire school career in the making,” he said. “We simply must toast it.” He plucked a bottle of port, almost at random from the cabinet, holding it up for James’s inspection. “What do you say, Master Potter?”

James was angry at his parents, embarrassed by them, and also curious, wanting to test the “sense” his father had for what happened in the house. From across the dining room, he smirked at Sirius. “We’re all of age. It’s Christmas. I don’t see why not.”

Between the five of them, no one had very much to drink, just enough to make young, inexperienced people loud and silly.

Lily held a hand over the top of James’s glass to keep Sirius from refilling it. “Not for you, James,” she said. “You know you’re going to want to walk me to my room later on and I don’t want you any sloppier or more bothersome than usual.”

At the moment, this seemed hilarious to the lads. “So begins the domestication of the once wild and free Prongs,” Sirius laughed.

“Yes, well you should all be so lucky,” James said.

They couldn’t spend all night in the dining room, and it wouldn't do for the senior Potters to meet them smelling of port in the drawing room, so they spent the rest of the evening in James’s rooms, lounging in front of the fire. The boys grew quiet again, playing at cards while Lily laid her head against James’s arm and drifted off to sleep.

Sirius noticed and hissed for James’s attention. “If she’s out for the night, drop her in her room, mate,” he whispered. “Then come back and give us the whole story of what went on down in the cellar.”

James looked at the mass of red hair slumped against his arm, rising and falling with Lily’s deep, sleepy breaths. She was warm and soft and lovely and Sirius had just given him a perfectly reasonable excuse to be alone with her again for the first time since the cellar when…

“Right.”

He was turning on the sofa beside her, sliding his arm behind her, preparing to pick her up when Lily startled awake. Disappointed, he sat back. “You’ve been asleep for nearly an hour,” he said. “I was about to carry you to bed.”

She punched at his arm, still blinking the sleepiness from her eyes. “Don’t be daft, Potter. I can walk."

In the corridor, James pushed Lily's bedroom door open and stepped inside with her. “You’re not drunk, are you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, just overwhelmed. Who knew prophecy was so exhausting? I feel like I’ve had a seizure. I need to rest.”

Visibly disappointed, James hung his head. It was her last night in the manor, her first night as his girl, and she had the proverbial romance squelching headache. He let out a long breath. “Alright then.”

“James,” she said before he could turn to leave. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to bid you a proper goodnight.”

“It doesn’t?”

Lily clenched one fist in the front of James’s jumper and pulled him to her. “Of course it doesn’t. And stop acting so insecure. That’s not like you. If I didn’t appreciate a man with a little too much self-confidence about him, I wouldn’t be here with you, would I?”

James’s arms closed around her. “I suppose not,” he said. “It’s just that my parents made it all so serious and ominous. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided being with me was too much trouble and -- “

Lily’s hands were braced on either side of his face. “It’s not too much trouble. I am not scared off. According to your parents, at this moment I am in the arms of my soulmate. I don’t know if I trust them on that, but I’m happy to hear it all the same. So if you think I might belong to you on some miraculous, cosmic level, then try acting like it.”

This was much more encouragement than James needed, and Lily yelped as he dropped the both of them onto her bed, rolling on top of her and grinning into her face.

“What in the stars are you doing?” she demanded through a laugh.

“I’m being a considerate host. Making sure you go to bed so you’re fresh for reuniting with your family tomorrow,” he said, bending to pepper kisses on her face. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“Fresh? Comfortable? James Euphemius Potter, how can you -- “

His trail of kisses had arrived at her mouth before she could finish scolding him. All her playful pretenses crumbled, her words ending in a sigh as their mouths met again. 

Being with James was different than being with the two other boys she’d kissed. There was something profound to it even when they were silly. It was different physically as well as emotionally. The sensations of their kisses were finer, more deeply felt -- the warmth and texture, the movement and friction of his lips and, yes, his tongue moving over hers.

“James,” she said, turning her mouth away from his. She meant for it to slow them down but all it did was bare her neck to him. Completely undeterred, he had happily set about kissing his way down her throat toward her collarbone. Before she could stop herself she moaned in frustrated appreciation, fighting for more breath to say, “James, your father.”

She heard and felt the break of the light suction between James’s mouth and the pulse point at the base of her neck. “What?”

“Old Monty has a sense of everything that happens in this house,” she said, her hands on his face again, drawing his eyes to hers. “You don’t think your dad knows that you’re in here, bidding me a very improper goodnight, sucking at my neck, and lying on top of me as if I can’t tell you’ve got an -- “

“Alright,” he said, rolling away. “Sorry.”

She eased onto her side, looking at his profile as he lay next to her. She traced his eyebrows, cheekbones, his nose, the curves of his lips and chin, the line of his throat to where his Adam’s apple bobbed. His chest rose and fell forcefully enough for her to watch as his heart rate became less frantic.

“It’s strange,” he said. “It’s not like being with other girls. With us, everything I do to be close to you feels so normal. Like I already know all of you, and barriers between us don’t make sense.” He turned to face her, folding his legs, his knees between them now. “But they do make sense. This is new and special, and I don't want to be so excited I trample all over it.”

She propped herself on one elbow. “Other girls,” she repeated. “Was it ever serious?"

He shook his head. "No."

"James Potter," she purred. "Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

He breathed a laugh through his nose, straightening his legs and inching closer. “Am I? Well, that depends entirely on you.”

She covered his mouth with her hand as his face hovered in front of hers. “You will certainly stay a virgin as long as your father is ‘sensing’ anything. That’s for sure. Now slink back to your mates and satisfy their sick curiosity about us. But don’t say anything about soulmates, or prophecies, or --.”

“Right,” James said. “Nothing too special. So here’s your proper goodnight.” His head crossed the space between them where they lay facing each other on the bed, and he kissed her sweetly on the mouth. It would have been perfectly proper if she hadn’t immediately, fervently kissed him back. He tugged her close as she lunged toward him, and through their combined momentum, James came to be lying on his back with Lily on top of him.

As soon as she noticed their new position, she withdrew from his mouth, but let him hold her waist, keeping her where she was. “Are you a virgin, Lily?” he asked, a note of dread in his voice.

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, for now.”

He raised a hand to her cheek, his thumb stroking her smooth, sweet skin. “Good. And goodnight, sweetheart.”

———

James opened his bedroom door to find the room dead quiet. The fire was low and Peter snoozed under a knitted afghan in the centre of the bed, more like a cat than a rat. 

On the sofa where James and Lily had been, Remus lay languidly petting the neck and shoulders of a large black dog stretched out alongside him, its great shaggy head on his chest. Being without family so young was harder than Sirius would usually let on. When he was melancholy, he would get a fix for physical human contact by becoming inhuman and coming to Remus like this. Remus needed it too. He didn't trust himself to have a lover for fear of tearing them apart. But a smart pet that could protect itself was more than alright, especially if it was Sirius. 

James paused to stare wistfully at them. Why did his animagus form have to something as completely uncuddly as a stag? If he was a dog, or even a rat, he could lay in bed with Lily while she stroked his fur until they fell peacefully, chastely to sleep. With those long, bony legs and a head full of antlers, no matter how velvety, Prongs couldn’t even get through her bedroom door.

Remus finally noticed James’s return and raked his fingers through Sirius's hair to wake him. As the dog shook its head and sat up, it was no longer a dog but a boy with a slight headache.

"I definitely smell her saliva on you," Sirius said, pulling James onto the sofa beside them. 

James cringed. “Is there some other way you could say that?”

“So you’re together,” Remus redirected them. “Brilliant.”

“Nothing beats the romantic setting of a cold, dark cellar,” Peter said, crossing the floor, still wrapped in the afghan, falling into the armchair.

“No, it must have come down to a mature, honest discussion of a long-held, complicated feelings,” Remus insisted.

“Pete’s right, actually,” James smirked. “We spent our time practicing Patronuses. Hers is a doe. That was it.”

There was a wave of low laughter. 

“Snogging by the light of your paired Patronuses. That’s intense, James,” Sirius said. “That’s soulmate stuff.”

James jumped. “Er -- not necessarily.”

“Look at him,” Peter said, pointing at James’s face. “I can see his pulse in his forehead. We’ve caught him. Old Prongs has got a soulmate.”

“I never said that,” James sputtered.

“Then deny it,” Sirius said, shoving hard at James’s shoulder. “As your oldest friend, I demand you look me in the eye and swear to me you have no soulmate.”

James tried to square his shoulders and say the words Sirius demanded of him. But it was no use. He couldn’t keep the lads, the cluster of stars from his chart, out of a secret this monumental. Instead of answering, he slumped against the sofa’s back and covered both his eyes with his hands.

There was more laughter and congratulations. But he couldn’t bear it. “Stop. Having a soulmate -- it’s not like that. My parents know about it and they think we have to repay the universe for the privilege by starting a family right away.”

Sirius gagged. “A family? What, with kids and all?”

“Yes,” James nearly shouted.

“No, that’s -- “

Remus cut in. “They must have a reason. No one wants their kids to be parents in school,” he reasoned.

James groaned. “Reason’s got nothing to do with it. They’re on about some horoscope they drew up for me when I was a baby.”

Peter grimaced. “Astronomical divination? They can’t be serious.”

“They are,” James groaned again. “Old and pitiful and -- I don’t know -- desperate to see a grandbaby before Dad dies. Who knows, really. Frankly, I’m relieved Lily didn’t disapparate in disgust, right out of Dad’s study and back to Cokeworth when they told her all this.”

Sirius leaned into him, sniffing hard, picking up Lily’s scent on him again. “No, smells like she wasn’t disgusted at all.”

The fretfulness on James’s face slipped into a lovestruck grin. “We did have a rather nice goodnight just now. It’s -- I can’t explain it. It’s just kissing but then it’s -- not just that. I feel like -- I have no words for it.”

Sirius swore. “Mr. Soulmate is going to be insufferable from now on.”

“But she’s definitely going back to Cokeworth in the morning. Awful to think about. I’ll probably run mad before school starts again.” He swore at himself. “You’re right, Sirius. I sound like a nutter.”

“Probably for the best she goes,” Remus said. “Let it cool off a bit and meet again at school, where things are more realistic, in their way. Let the whole grandbaby spectre fade away.”

James nodded. “Mum says if we stay together, we’ll definitely have the baby in no time. The only way we can avoid it is to split up.”

“No one’s telling you to never give them the grandchild,” Remus said. “Just put it off for a few years -- “

“Like all sane couples do, for stars sake,” Sirius finished.

“Thanks, mates,” James said, standing up. “But you lot are going to have to find somewhere else to do your interspecies snuggling. I’ve got to get some rest. I may be meeting the Evans family tomorrow and don’t want to look like I’ve been up all night bragging about my soulmate.”

The lads rose, clapping him on the shoulder as they filed by him. James felt odd, conflicted. He had managed to respect Lily’s privacy and not to tell them about the prophecy, or about this baby of theirs saving the world, or any of that craziness. Maybe later the lads would guess at all of his secrets, as they always did, as they had tonight. But secrets like these -- how could anyone possibly guess?


	6. Six

Remus and Peter agreed not to leave the Potter manor until after James was back from seeing Lily to Cokeworth. No one told Sirius about the arrangement, but it didn’t need to be said that they didn’t want to leave him on Christmas Eve in the big old house with only the Potter parents, both of whom seemed a little less rosy this morning than usual.

“If we’re lucky, you’ll miss my parents altogether,” Lily said to James as he set her trunk next to where they stood on the Potters’ veranda. “They’re expected back today, but it’s still so early, we might have a chance to get you back unnoticed.”

“Miss them?” James asked, slipping an arm around her waist, one hand on the trunk, ready for her to apparate them both to Cokeworth. He had insisted she show it to him so he could get there, off the Floo network and on his own in an emergency. “Why should I miss them? What’s wrong with me?”

She stood facing him, pressed close, picking invisible lint from the shoulders of his dark wool coat. “Nothing at all. And there’s nothing wrong with them either but -- but I don’t feel like you’ve been sufficiently prepared, and neither have they. The only wizards they know are Severus and Hogwarts teachers. And really, James, how many Muggles have you met?”

“Loads,” James beamed.

“Outside of street corners and train stations,” Lily pressed. “How many Muggles have you known personally, well enough to be inside their houses?”

“Uh, none,” James admitted.

“And beyond Muggles,” she went on, “how many working class families’ homes have you been in, magical or non-magical?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not some snob, Lily. I know not everyone lives in a manor or a Grimauld Place. Peter’s house is old, but it’s so overcrowded it doesn’t feel grand. And Remus’s parents have proper jobs. They’re librarians. Nothing posh.”

She groaned and rolled her forehead against his chest. “You don’t even know, Potter.”

James scooped her face from his chest and turned it up to look at him. “Come on now, how much more preparation do I need? I’ve already had the pleasure of overhearing you getting bawled out through the telephone machine by Petal -- “

“Petunia -- “

“Right. So I don’t expect too much there,” he said, smoothing her hair from her forehead. “And your parents will be in good moods, fresh from their holiday in Switzerland -- “

“Who said they were holidaying?” Lily interrupted. “They were at a funeral for Dad’s mate from school. And they’re not rushing back to have Christmas, but to miss Christmas. Dad had to agree to work the graveyard shift at the mill tonight in exchange for getting time off for the funeral.”

James didn’t know what to make of the term ‘graveyard shift’ but he did understand the word ‘mill.’ “Your dad’s a miller? Well, isn’t that quaint.”

She was laughing again, tousling James' hair the way he liked it. “It’s a steel mill. A massive, filthy, noisy industrial steel mill. He’s a hot metal crane operator.”

James frowned, as if thinking very hard. “Hot metal crane operator. I know what each of those words mean but -- “

Lily boosted herself onto her toes to kiss his cheek. James twitched at the light touch, turning his mouth toward hers, bending with her as she lowered herself back on her heels. But she only laughed gently and said, “You’re not ready. It’s alright. We’ll apparate in, make sure you get a good enough sense of the place, and then you’ll go back. There’s no rush to make you part of the family.”

James’s posture stiffened. “Tell it to my parents.”

“I did.”

“You did,” James echoed, and this time, when he bent toward her face she didn’t laugh, but leaned up and into his kiss. Her stomach took on that swooping, uncontrolled broom ride lightness again as James sealed his mouth to hers for the first time that morning. She hopped against him, rising higher, closer, her hand finding the groove of his spine through his heavy coat. His hands were in her hair, cool on her scalp, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, taking her breath, urging her to cling to him. How many times would she have to kiss him before this ecstatic feeling stopped coming?

“Oi,” someone whisper-yelled. It was Remus, leaning out of the doorway. “Get on your way, James. Mum’s expecting me before noon.”

Still in James’s embrace, their mouths barely separated, Lily turned on the spot, and they were gone. 

This, it turned out, was foolish. Lily’s apparation was perfect, and brought them to stand with her trunk on the concrete walk through her parents’ tiny front garden, the one crammed with tyres and old, partially rebuilt motors. But she arrived there in the arms of a boy the size of a fully grown man, dressed in a fine, almost formal coat like the boys of Cokeworth never wore. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed, breath quick, lips red from having reluctantly just finished kissing her. If they would have had a moment to orient themselves, to stand apart in the cold, crisp morning and let it dampen their air of being newly in love, the entire visit would have gone more smoothly. But they hadn’t.

They were still holding each other, eye to eye, laughing softly at nothing, when a car door slammed. There in the street, looking down on the garden, stood Petunia, bags of shopping in each hand. A great hulking man was closing the boot at the back of the car, pocketing the keys and arguing a point about fuel efficiency with no one. Vernon Dursley was still here.

“Well, well,” Petunia said, beginning like a bad teleplay, “if it isn’t our perfect, ever innocent Lily and the fancy man she’s been hiding away with while our parents were abroad. Should have known it was something like this.”

James and Lily had separated at the sound of the slamming doors. James was stepping toward Petunia as if to take the shopping from her. “Hello, Petunia. Lily’s told me so much about you. I’m -- “

Petunia jerked the bags away to pile them into Vernon’s already heavily loaded, beefy arms. She was refusing to acknowledge James, cutting short his introduction. “Just had to, didn’t you Lily? Used your witchery to find out the news about Vernon and me, and then had to come and steal what thunder you could from it.” She finally sneered in James’s direction. “He’ll be one of your kind, won’t he?”

Lily flinched. “Petty, there are certain things you shouldn’t say lightly outside the family -- “

“Oh, you don’t like me to use the word ‘witchery’ in front of Vernon?” she said. “Believe me, I’d much rather not have to speak that word either. But you can give up hiding any of that. Vernon is family now. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Honestly, Petty, I have no idea what you’re on about. Did something happen?”

“We’re engaged,” Petunia shouted across the garden. “Vernon proposed while we were in London to fetch you. You know that, and it’s why you sabotaged that perfect evening by disappearing, and why you’ve turned up on the front step now shamelessly groping -- whoever this is.”

Lily vaulted over Petunia’s nastiness, hopping onto her level on the street and crushing her in a hug, twisting back and forth, cooing in a sing-song voice. “Engaged? At last! Congratulations, Petty. How wonderful for you.”

Petunia didn’t return the hug, but she didn’t resist it either, letting Lily hold and move her. “Look,” she said, in a small, sulky but somehow satisfied voice, “there’s a ring.”

Lily snatched at her sister’s hand, stooping to see the very sensible white diamond solitaire ring in a band of yellow gold.

“Vernon, it’s beautiful, classic,” Lily said, in all earnestness. 

“Yes, isn’t it,” Vernon muttered.

“That’s Vernon,” Lily said. “Hardworking, responsible, always so good to our Petunia. And I’ll finally have a brother. I’ve always wanted one.”

She moved to hug him too but Vernon drew himself back, cringing behind his wall of shopping bags. Petunia linked her arm through his as best she could. “Give him space, Lily. News of your witchiness hit him rather hard,” Petunia explained. “He thought he knew you, but -- well, naturally, he may never look on you the same way again.”

Lily hung her head, genuinely sad. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

James snapped, skipping up onto the low embankment to stand in the street with them, taking Lily’s arm. “Now wait just a minute. It’s not right to speak as if there’s something wrong with -- “

“James, don’t,” Lily said. “It’s a sibling thing. Please.”

Petunia huffed. “James, is it?”

Lily nodded. “James Potter. He’s in my year at school. Head Boy.”

Petunia rolled her eyes. “Oh, he just has to be.”

A voice was calling from the small kitchen window in the front of the house. “Petunia!”

She brushed past Lily, Vernon following, hurrying into the house with the things their mother had sent her to fetch.

“Well,” Lily said as her brother-in-law-to-be turned sideways to get through the front door with his load. “If Mum is at the kitchen window, she will have seen you, James. Prepared or not, you can’t just go. Are you ready to meet more Evanses?”

James took a deep breath. “Once more unto the breach.”

Lily startled. “You know Shakespeare?”

James shrugged one shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She squeezed his arm, taking up the recitation of the King Henry’s famous speech, “The game’s afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge, Cry -- “

James was reciting the battle cry from the play with her as they crossed the garden. They spoke the final line in unison as they arrived at the front door, “God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”

They managed to be laughing as they stepped inside. 

With Vernon, Petunia, and Cheryl Evans all sorting through the shopping, the kitchen was too crowded to enter. James and Lily stood in the doorway, waiting, James watching as Lily watched her mother: a hard, thin woman with a dull blond ponytail, wearing a grey pullover and a pair of pajamas bottoms as she bossed Petunia around the room. 

All at once, Cheryl turned around, shouting, “Lil-lay! Oh, there you are, darling. Come through.”

Vernon and Petunia moved into the lounge, leaving Lily and James alone with Cheryl. She hugged Lily with rough enthusiasm, as if they were quidditch teammates. “Happy Christmas, Lily,” she said rather briskly. “Now dish about this boyfriend.”

Accustomed to this kind of extremely direct address, Lily answered unfazed. “Yes, Mum. This is James Potter -- “

Cheryl was already nodding. “Potter. That’s Head Boy to your Head Girl. Right. Makes sense, I suppose. Probably inevitable, though I had hoped -- any road, you must be a good student then, are you James?”

The conversation was proceeding too quickly for James to pause to be modest. “Yes, Madam.”

Cheryl laughed but not unkindly, her voice breaking into a hoarse, smoky cough. “Madam indeed,” she said, opening a hatch in the top of a white metal cube and beginning to pack it with her husband’s dirty clothes. “You’re serious at school then? No history of messing about?"

"Erm, well -- ”

“Are your parents still together, James?”

“Oh -- yes. All the time.”

Lily tried to take over. “The Potters live in the countryside. Lovely old house. They’ve very kindly been hosting a bunch of us from school since classes let out.”

Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “You mean, since you gave your sister the slip in town.”

Lily was speaking quickly, plaintively. “Petty and Vernon left me stranded at the station for six hours while they went off and got engaged. I don’t blame them for forgetting me in all the excitement. But I already apologized, and there won’t be a repeat -- “

“Later, Lily. Later,” Cheryl said. “At least there was no harm done. Not with your knight in shining armour waiting to sweep you off to his ancestral estate. Isn’t that right James?” Cheryl’s voice had taken on a sarcastic monotone punctuated by the sound of the door of the metal hatch falling shut. She cranked a dial on the front of the cube and the room was noisy with a sound like a garden hose spraying into an oil drum.

James raised his voice to speak over it, his tone still light. “Oh, strictly speaking, we’re not actually a noble family. No knights. Not anymore, at any rate,” James said.

Cheryl laughed, mostly at Lily’s spectacular cringe. “Does your dad work then?”

“At his age?” James said. “Oh no.”

“And your mum?”

There was something rather terrifying about the way Cheryl posed the question, leaning one hip against the metal box, her chin tucked, her eyebrows pulled together as she waited for his reply. James wasn’t sure how to avoid setting off the trap, but he couldn’t refuse to answer either. 

“She,” he began, looking to Lily for signs of impending disaster, “she looks after Dad.”

Lily’s show of disaster came too late, a hiss through her teeth as she pivoted in a circle.

“What?” he mouthed at her.

Cheryl set her empty plastic laundry basket down on the kitchen table with the loudest thud she could muster. “Our Lily is a talented, promising girl. She can be anything she wants. Her future is blindingly bright,” she said. “I’m sure you know that, James. I’m sure you know she is suited for better things than following some man to his house in the country while she’s still in her teens to give him pretty, magical babies and ‘look after’ him. I am positively certain you know all this, James Potter. Do you?”

James was flustered for just a moment. “I -- I -- yes, of course I know that. Lily’s the best girl at school. The best girl anywhere. The best person anywhere. No one would expect her to just -- “

Lily threw herself between them. “Mum, we’ve only been involved for a few days. Honestly, there’s no need to be so -- “

“Alright, alright,” Cheryl said, stepping toward James, taking his hand, at last, and shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you, James. I’m sure you’re lovely. But you’ve caught me on a bad day. We were on the train all night, and Mitch is going to be working or sleeping for most of Christmas, and I’m still processing my other daughter’s relationship bombshell and -- “

“It’s okay, Mum,” Lily was saying, her arm around her mother’s shoulders, rubbing her palm against her arm.

“Well, Mitch has already gone to bed. So at least you’ve missed meeting Princess Lily’s adoring daddy while he’s in a bad mood,” Cheryl said.

James let out a long, noisy breath. “Yeah.”

Lily and Cheryl laughed at his too obvious relief. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it for long though,” Cheryl said, wagging a finger. “Come back the day after Boxing Day. Everyone should be well-rested and you can meet Mitch then. It will be nicer than this. We’ll have clean clothes, and I'll cook for everyone.”

James was nodding. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be sure to come. Lovely to meet you, Madam -- er -- Mrs. Evans.”

Cheryl pounded him on the back. “Right. You and all. See him out, Lily. The poor sweetheart.”

Lily fled the house, grabbing at a handful of James’s sleeve and towing him along behind her, his leather-soled shoes clicking against the kitchen linoleum. They passed through the door to the garden where she spun James’s back into the wall. It happened so quickly and with such determination James expected them to be apparating somewhere else. But instead, Lily just collapsed against him as he leaned on the wall, her feet between his, her arms around his waist, and her face in his chest.

“Stars, James, I am so sorry,” she said. “I knew it would have been better if we’d missed them.”

“None of that, Lily,” James said, gathering her hair between his hands as if to tie it up. “It would have been indecent if they weren’t a bit cross with the stranger you disappeared with for three nights.”

“Do they have to assume the worst, though? Honestly.”

“The worst?” James said, rocking slightly from side to side, rolling his shoulders against the bricks. “The worst was my parents telling you to let me get you pregnant with the Chosen One to keep the world from devolving into war. No, your mum was well within her rights to assume the worst.”

Lily laughed wearily into the front of his coat. “You don’t have to come back on the twenty-seventh to have a meal with us. Not if it’s going to be more of this.”

“It’s not. That’s what your mother said. And even if it is,” James paused to lift her chin with his fingers. “If it is, it will still be worth it.” He pressed a soft, warm kiss to her lips. “Worth it.” And another. “Worth it.”

After the final kiss, Lily opened her eyes to look up into James’s. His hand was on her cheek, and the look on his face was achingly sweet. They were parting for the first time since the prophecy in the cellar. He was going to leave her in another town. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat and withdrew the grey glass orb, holding it between them, letting it show her thoughts. James understood, and let go of her face to brush the cold glass with his fingertips. 

There was a word in Lily’s mind: “Soulmates.” She didn’t speak it. Maybe she didn’t have to. Madam Potter had said soulmates had less pain in their intimate relationships. That might have been true when the soulmates were together. But it meant there was more pain when they were apart.

They looked away from the prophecy orb and into each other’s faces again. Lily saw that there was a word in James’s mind as well -- not one, actually, but three. They were different from what she wanted to say, but had much the same meaning. She watched his expression, seeing that he was about to speak them as he left her.

She lifted a finger and held it over his lips. “It’s just our second day together, James,” she whispered. “Don’t say it yet.”

“But it’s true,” he said.

“Just wait,” Lily insisted. “It doesn’t matter how long. It will still be true.”

\------------------------

It took much too long for Lily to come back into the house, alone. By then, Cheryl was sat at the table with a cup of tea and a cigarette as the washing machine spun.

Lily sat in the chair next to her. "Are you happy about Petty's news?" she began.

Cheryl blew a jet of smoke toward the ceiling. "Well, we couldn't convince her to work at anything but filling an office clerk job, and she has no love for it, so she may as well start a career as Mrs. Dursley instead. Vernon's no prince but he’s alright. Dependable."

Lily hummed and took a Christmas shortbread from the tin on the table.

"At least Petunia is out of her teen years, and she's not going into marriage already up the duff," Cheryl said, flicking a column of hot ash from her cigarette into her saucer. "Not like some of us."

"But your life with dad turned out alright, hasn't it Mum?" Lily asked, sweeping her shortbread crumbs into a pile.

"Of course it has," Cheryl said. "But think what might have been. Your cleverness, your shine doesn't come from nowhere, Lily. I once had a future with every bright possibility in it too. But then I fell stupidly in love -- not that my love was stupid, but I went about it all wrong. Don't do that, my darling girl. Not even for the headiest of Head Boys.”

Lily lowered her voice. “Would you say Dad is your soulmate?"

Cheryl snorted a laugh. “Sure I would. On an anniversary card, maybe at Valentine's if he behaved particularly well. I’d say it. Though it hardly matters after twenty-something years together, now does it? Doesn’t matter what I call it. Here I am."

It wasn't the kind of answer Lily wanted. She smiled anyway, rising from her chair. "I'll take my trunk upstairs."

Petunia kept the bedroom so neat Lily felt like there was no place for her or her things in it. She reduced the size of her trunk and stashed it under her bed before falling hard onto her pillow. 

In an instant, James filled her mind. She shook her head into her pillow. "Don't think about him. You've wasted enough of the time you should have spent this holiday studying for NEWTs mooning over James Potter. Focus, Evans. Don’t be stupid."

But these words were like someone else’s, the words of the Lily Evans she used to be before -- when did it even start?

And she spent the rest of the morning lying in bed, looking out the window, beginning in first year, examining every moment she'd ever had with James, looking for the soulmate in all of it.


	7. Seven

The day after Boxing Day, Lily Evans awoke in her bed in Cokeworth the same way she had for the past three mornings: with a pillow striking her hard on the head.

“Wake up, you pervert.” Petunia was snarling, standing over her, hitting her again. 

Lily tore the pillow out of Petunia’s grasp and swatted at her knees with it. “Leave me alone, Petty. I’m only sleeping.”

Petunia stood clear of the pillow’s range, her hands on her hips, lip curled. “Hardly. You’ve been lying there thrashing and moaning every morning this week, you sick freak. I've had enough of your disgusting, slaggy, witchy meeting with your fancy man in your sleep”

Lily pulled her own pillow over her head.

Petunia huffed. “She doesn’t deny it.”

“I do deny it,” Lily answered, shouting, but barely peeking out from beneath her pillow. “Of course I do. They don’t even teach astral projection at our school. I was just sleeping, not even dreaming.”

It felt true until she said it. Had she been dreaming or not? There were no threads of any unfinished stories in her head, like there are when we’re jolted out of a dream. And if she had been dreaming, was it one of THOSE dreams? She didn’t have a memory of a dream, but maybe a sense of one remained. Her heart rate felt fast, her fingertips were tingling. But she was fighting with Petunia now, her body’s systems shocked out of sleep into self defense. 

But what if it wasn’t just an effect of the pillow attack? What if Petunia was right and it was one of THOSE dreams? Could it have anything to do with James -- specifically, personally?

Petunia growled her disgust one last time, swept her pillow from the floor, smoothing its slip, setting it neatly to her bed. She would have liked to slam the door as she went, but their father hadn’t come home from the mill until five o’clock that morning and was still asleep.

Alone in the bedroom, Lily freed her head from beneath her pillow. She stretched between her sheets, arching her back, and as she did, she felt it, the lingering traces of something activated in a part of her that had never had anything to do with Petunia. And as she felt it, James filled her thoughts, her feelings. 

For a moment, she felt good -- desired and powerful. Though she was grateful she didn’t remember a single detail of it. How embarrassing would it be if she had an image of something like that in her mind when she saw James later today, blushing and nervous after meeting him in a dream where they had --

Lily sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding harder now, and not out of fondness. What did she really know about wizarding intimacy? She didn’t have any trusted magical adults in her life to teach her about it. Could Petunia be right? Were the lines between sleeping and waking as strict and uncrossable in wizard dreams as they were among other people? 

They were definitely different in divination dreaming. The porous barrier between dreams and wakefulness was the whole point of divination by dreaming. It was the source of its power. And aside from dreams being more connected to reality for wizards in general, they tended to be more real for Lily even among wizards. She was an aspiring diviner herself with one prophecy orb already to her credit. 

What did that mean for dreams like these? When she felt James vibrating through every cell of her body while she slept, he wasn’t actually here in her bed, in smokey Cokewoth with Petunia sneering at them from across the room. Lily knew that. But what she didn’t know was whether some part of his essence was there all the same, in touch with hers. What if he was here, locked so deep in her no one else knew? Maybe it wouldn’t happen for all wizards, but what about for ones who had reason to believe they were soulmates? Or wizards someone else was trying to convince that they were soulmates, the fated parents of a Chosen One?

Lily bolted out of bed, looking frantically for something she might have lost. Or was it for something she might have gained? That star chart on the desk at the Potters’ house -- what if the not-as-sweet-as-they-seemed old couple with a propensity for spying on their son and his friends was using what they knew of soulmate magic to reach her here, to bring James to her, to set in motion something that would bring about their Chosen One grandchild while she slept on innocently?

Grabbing a bra, Lily wriggled into it inside her pajamas top as she jammed her feet into a pair of slippers. She would have had to walk past Petunia and her mother to get her coat from the front hall closet so she left without it, turning on the rug and disapparating with a crack.

The sound had been loud in her bedroom but it was lost in the place where she arrived, in the kitchen of the Potters’ manor. James and Sirius were sitting over their breakfast porridge. Lily could smell Monty’s morning coffee but there was no other sign of him or Effie in the kitchen. James was rising to his feet, his face blooming into a smile even as Lily bared her teeth and rushed at him.

“They need to stop it,” she said, crowding him, forcing him back until his legs hit the edge of the table, her forefinger pointed at his face.

Sirius whistled, his chair scraping over the floor as he pushed himself clear of them. “Well, I’m off to Remus’s a bit early then. Best of luck, James.”

There was still a hint of a smile about James even as he faced his angry visitor. “Stop? Stop what? I haven’t done anything to you since Christmas Eve, Evans. And I seem to recall that you liked it fine.”

James was reaching for her waist but she caught his wrists and held them up to the height of his shoulders. “The dreams, Potter. How are they doing the dreams? And what does it mean? And are they doing it to make me -- "

“What in the stars are you on about?” James shouted back at her, twisting his wrists, trying to get out of the awkward position she held him in without using too much force. “Who is ‘they’?”

“Don’t you play stupid with me. Your parents. You must have been dreaming it too. Haven’t you?” With the question, she pushed harder at his wrists, upsetting his equilibrium.

“Dreaming what? I'm an extremely sound sleeper. I hardly remember dreaming at all,” James stammered as he jostled from one foot to another, looking for his lost balance. “And as for my parents -- what could they possibly -- ”

“You tell me -- “ Lily’s words were lost in a yelp as James's weight pulled her forward. He was falling backward onto the top of the breakfast table, and since Lily wasn’t letting go of his wrists, she was falling with him. The dishes jumped with their impact, spilling a bowl full of mucky porridge milk.

James moved to use his hands to push himself upright, but Lily kept her hold on them, binding them to the table with all her strength. She looked so adorably fierce, looming over him, earnestly believing she was strong enough to keep him there, that James had to laugh.

“Stay here and answer my questions, Potter. It’s not funny!” Lily yelled into his face as she held him down.

“No, not at all,” James smirked. “I’m not laughing at you. I'm just very happy to see you. Whether you're inexplicably mad at me or not -- “ He left off teasing abruptly, noisily. The trail of spilled milk had made its way along the tabletop, soaking through the fabric of his shirt and onto the sensitive flesh at his waist. James yipped and twisted away from the cold wetness, driving one side of his pelvis up into Lily as she stood bent over at the waist between his knees.

“Don’t!” she called out, greatly alarmed at the contact.

“Right,” James said, easily raising both his arms even as Lily still held them, sitting up on the edge of the table, and lacing their fingers together. “Stop rampaging through our kitchen and tell me what’s happened. Please.”

She let her breath out, her anger deflating, her body sinking against James’s. “I don’t want to get pregnant yet.”

He made a sound between a sigh and a gasp. “Then don't. Please don’t. Unless you’ve got another boyfriend, you're not. I can guarantee you’re not pregnant by me."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes," he answered, almost laughing. "Positively. Your mother seems like a practical person. Has she never explained to you how pregnancy happens?”

He was joking but Lily’s head snapped up, her chin on his sternum. “What about your mother?” she said. “She thinks we’re soulmates, and last I heard from her, she said we need to either abandon each or conceive the Chosen One. And -- well, we seem to still be together -- “

“Definitely,” James said.

“So,” Lily said in a tiny, nervous voice, “so could she and your father be doing some kind of magical projection, taking advantage of the soulmate thing to bring you to me in my sleep to -- to -- so a baby could -- you know?”

James’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me you’ve been dreaming that you and me -- that we -- . Stars, Lily. That’s -- well, how -- how was it?”

She batted at his chest. “That is hardly the point. And no, it’s not like that. I can’t remember any details at all, but I wake up with this -- this feeling. And Petunia says I’ve been making noises.”

James was speechless, mouth agape, no noises at all.

“Quit imagining it,” Lily chided him. “Do I need to pour more cold milk on you?”

He gave his head a sharp shake. “Right. Sorry.”

“The whole thing couldn’t be more embarrassing,” she said, stepping out of his reach. “And now I have to ask you to march into your father’s study to confront them and to and demand to know everything about soulmate magic, including whether this kind of -- of contact during dreaming is even possible.”

James pushed himself off the table. “Library,” he said. “We don’t need to row with my parents again -- not yet. We just need their library. It’s got more than moving atlases in it. If my parents know anything more about soulmate magic than what they’ve already told us, it will be in there.”

She followed him through the hall to the library. The cold, milky wet spot on the back of his shirt kept grazing his skin and making him wince as he walked. He muttered a summoning spell to bring himself a clean shirt from his room. 

The library door closed behind them just as James began to unbutton his dirty shirt.

“Honestly, James,” Lily said, pouncing on him and pulling the fronts of his shirt back together.

“What? It’s not as if you haven’t seen it all in your dreams.”

“I told you, it’s not like that,” she said. “And whether it’s real or not still remains to be seen.”

James smiled. “Well, I think the fact that you feel like my stripping off in front of you right now would be unprecedented is a very good sign that whatever you’ve dreamed isn’t real. If you were too comfortable with my bare torso -- that would be cause for concern. Don’t you think?”

Lily let go of James’s shirt. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll be with the books. I won’t even look at you while you change.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “S for soulmates. Should be somewhere on that far wall.”

Lily was standing on a step stool, reaching high into the S section when James approached and draped a fuzzy brown cardigan over her shoulders. “Take this,” he said. “It’s a poor excuse for a Christmas present, but it's draughty here, and your pajamas are a bit on the sheer side for paying social calls.”

She looked down at herself, at the too visible outlines of her bra beneath her thin white top specked with the tiny navy blue daisies. She'd had these pajamas for years and there were nearly worn out. She hugged herself. “Oh, sorry.” 

James gave a low laugh. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not covering you up for me. And I must say,” he said, still behind her, doubling his arms over hers as she hugged herself, “I'm enjoying the sight and feel of you wearing my clothes more than I can tell you.”

She turned her face toward where he had rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing his cheek. "Good, because I didn't bring a present for you. Nothing but wild accusations. I'm sorry."

From over her shoulder, James kissed her cheek in return. This boy -- he didn't feel like someone who tricked her into carrying on with him in her dreams. He felt more like a gentleman, a sweetheart.

“I’ve got to get back,” she said. “Mum is going to want my help getting ready for your and Dad’s epic meeting. But I’ve got this book now. And here, you read this other one. They're both about soulmates and between the two of us, we’ll figure this dreaming business out.”

“You’re going already? But we just got you calmed down and sweet,” James sulked through a smirk.

“I will see you in four hours,” she said. “Stay here and read your book. No need to walk me out to the veranda. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet this morning so there will be no snogging.”

He took his chances, and followed her out all the same.

\---------------------------------------

Vernon had arrived first. James could tell by the car parked in the street in front of the Evans's house. He stood at the end of the walk for a moment, gathering strength, remembering the Shakespearian battle cry from Henry V that he and Lily had recited the last time he stood here.

"For Harry, England, and Saint George!"

He set off, head held high as he knocked and waited for Lily to let him in. Only it wasn’t Lily who opened the door. It was a stocky man in a T-shirt with the name of the town of Leicester and a tiger head logo on it. He made no move to hide that he was looking James over from head to foot, sizing him up, noting with some distaste that James was slightly taller than himself. This was Lily’s father, Mitch Evans.

“James Potter, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In ye come.”

James stepped inside, Mitch and himself crowding each other in the small vestibule. If he wasn’t mistaken, James could hear quite a lot of swearing and coughing coming from the kitchen.

“Lil-lay!” Mitch called. “He’s here.”

Breathless, Lily came scuffing to a halt in the kitchen doorway. She nodded to James, blushing infuriatingly for her father to see. “We’ve had a mishap, with the cooking,” she said. “So we’ll be eating late. If that’s quite convenient.”

The Evanses seemed to be looking at James, Lily worried he might have something else pressing in his schedule, Mitch daring him to.

“What? No, I’ve nothing on today but being here,” James said. “Can I help in the kitchen?”

Mitch saw it, the way James looked Lily in the eye and she immediately looked away, as if he was too dazzling to behold here in her humble house. 

“Right,” he said, throwing an arm as thick as a railroad tie around James’s shoulders. “We’ll have no guests slaving in our kitchen today. And no worries, Lil. Me and Vernon will keep Jim occupied until Mum gets dinner sorted.”

James was pulled into the lounge, Lily trailing after them, forcing herself not to wring her hands.

Vernon was already sitting on the settee, a newspaper spread wide in front of his face as he read a page of sports statistics.

“Vernon,” Mitch called to him. “You’ve met Jim?”

Vernon lowered the paper. “Indeed.”

Mitch let go of James and nudged him into a stiff, wooden armchair.

“How are our boys doing, Vernon?” Mitch asked. “Hard to keep up with the league standings when I’m on nights.”

“Disappointing showing on Boxing Day,” Vernon said.

Mitch grumbled. “You follow rugby, Jim?”

James’s mouth opened and closed, he lifted each of his feet off of the carpet to look beneath them. What in the world was a rug bee? “No, I’m afraid not, sir,” James admitted.

Mitch hummed. “Football’s your game then?”

James knew this one. Football was played with one ball and two nets on great green fields and it had professional leagues. But his knowing this would not impress Mitch. “Also no,” he said through a pained smile.

Mitch sat down in his own armchair. “You’re not one for sports?” 

“Oh no, Dad,” Lily was saying, hovering behind James’s chair. “James is brilliant at sports. It’s just that the ones at our school are different. And they’re not on the telly.”

Mitch was lighting a cigarette. “Different, eh? But you do go in for them, Jim?”

“Oh, yes,” Lily was saying, almost gushing. “James is the captain of one of the school teams. Quite an athlete. Though it’s more about agility than strength.”

“Flanker,” Mitch went on, speaking to James again. “Our Vernon’s game is rugby, and he’s a flanker. Opposite of you. More about size than agility. Isn’t that right, Vernon?”

“Indeed, Mitch,” Vernon answered.

“Oi,” Mitch said, waved his cigarette hand into Vernon’s newspaper. “Take us for a ride in that flash car of yours while Cheryl gets dinner sorted.”

This was what finally caught Vernon’s attention, and he was folding his paper and reaching for his keys.

“Come on, Lil,” Mitch said, waving everyone out of the room.

“Where is she going?” Petunia snapped as they filed past the kitchen door. “Lily can scarper off with the men while the rest of us stay here and cook? Is that how it is now?”

“Don’t make trouble between the girls, Mitch,” Cheryl called from the stove. “Leave Lily here.”

“For stars sake,” Lily fumed, “it’s almost 1978 and you all still want to leave the women in the kitchen while the men toy around in someone’s new car?”

“Enough of that, Lily,” Cheryl said. “Come peel this second round of potatoes.”

Lily set her mouth in a line, as if to argue. James looked terrified at the thought of all the Evans women rowing, but Mitch just smiled and took Lily’s hand. “Please stay and lend a hand this time, love. Your mother’s had a hard week.”

She sighed and shifted from foot to foot. “I will for you, Dad.”

“There’s my girl.” Mitch pecked her cheek and led Vernon and James outside.

Vernon let him into the front seat and left James to grapple with getting into the back himself.

“Well, well,” Mitch crowed. “Isn’t this nice? You’ve done well for yourself Vernon. Did you know, Jim, that Vernon has already made director at his company?”

James had no idea what that meant, but answered, “Has he? That’s smashing.”

“Yes, that’s where he met our Petunia, there in the upper offices where she’s a clerk. Good career move on her part, isn’t it?” Mitch laughed.

Vernon laughed along. “The opportunity is all mine,” he said.

“Take us out on the motorway,” Mitch said, clapping Vernon on the shoulder. “Show us what kind of speed it’s got.”

Vernon was happy to oblige, passing every car ahead of them.

“Off into a lane now,” Mitch said. “Somewhere quiet. Let’s see how tight the turning circle is and all of that.”

Vernon wheeled over the frozen ground of an empty field, tugging the wheel left and right to show the car’s superior handling. James was lost, trying hard to understand how the car was moving about without magic but finding it clunky and noisy compared to magical conveyance. 

Finally, Mitch asked Vernon to stop so they could admire the car from the outside too. The three of them stood in the field, Vernon leaning back, his hands in his pockets, beaming at his car. Mitch tapped its rear tire with the toe of his boot. “What does your family drive, Jim?” Mitch asked.

James startled. “What do they drive?”

“Yeah, what kind of car do your parents own," Mitch pressed. "They sound like the posh type. So what is it? Bentley? Maybe a Rolls Royce?” 

James wasn’t sure it was a serious question. Both Vernon and Mitch were laughing, half curious about how James lived, but also half making fun of him. It peeved him enough that James said, “We don’t use cars much. Maybe as a novelty for a few Muggle studies hobbyists, but not as a rule.”

“How do you get about then?” Vernon boomed. “Layin’ a finger aside of your nose?”

For some reason, Mitch burst with laughter at this ridiculous suggestion. “Mind your manners, Vernon,” he said, wiping his eyes. “No really, Jim. I know your lot has got that train to the school. And Lily had us sign the permission slip to take that test to pop herself around the country last year. But isn’t there some kind of vehicle for you? A fast machine you can be proud of?”

All at once, James understood. “Ah, like this," he said. From his coat, James produced what looked like a very stiff paintbrush.

Vernon snorted, doubling over laughing.

“No, Jim,” Mitch bawled at him. “No, not like that at all.”

“Hang on,” James said, and he flicked his wrist. In an instant, the paint brush was a full-sized racing broom.

Vernon collapsed on the ground, paralysed with laughter.

“No, Jim,” Mitch was shouting again. “It’s Christmas, son, not Halloween. Ye won’t be flying a broomstick like a witch now.”

James frowned. “A witch? You mean, like Lily? Why ever not?” There was no way for James to shut Vernon up than to climb onto the broom.

“Jim, stop. There’s no need for you to -- “ But Mitch’s protests fell abruptly silent as James drifted into the sky with no sound more than a gentle, breezy whistle.

“Vernon, hush,” Mitch said as James began to rise before their eyes. “Blimey, Jim. You really are…”

Mitch couldn’t finish. Beside him, Vernon had got to his feet, gawking at James, forgetting to brush away the snow stuck to his coat.

“How high does that thing go?” Mitch asked.

James swooped up, as high as the leafless tops of the oak trees lining the field. “As high as anything. It’s the rider who limits the altitude, what with the air thinning out as we go.”

“How fast?” Vernon croaked.

James shrugged. “Dunno, really. It’s the latest model. A Christmas gift. Test it. Make a snowball and throw it as far as you can.”

Mitch stooped to form a projectile out of the soggy snow at his feet. “You’re going to race my snowball?”

James smirked. “No, I’m going to catch it. Don’t tell me where it’s heading. I’ll get to it while it’s still airborne anyway.”

Vernon was swearing as he packed together a snowball of his own. “Insufferably cocky little son of a…”

Without any warning, Mitch dipped his knees low and threw his snowball straight up. James shot after it, not only catching up to it before it reversed toward the ground again, but turning the bristles of his broom into it so it broke apart to shower clods of snow down on Mitch and Vernon as they watched.

Mitched cheered, but Vernon grit his teeth and lobbed his snowball hard at James’s head. James met it not with his head but with one arm extended to bat it away. He laughed and turned in a fast loop in celebration. “Stopped! Not bad for a chaser, eh?”

James leveled out and circled around the clearing, a streak of black and grey whirling around the two Muggle men. He came to a stop next to Mitch, levitating evenly at his side.

"Can Lily do that and all?" was what Mitch asked first.

"She's a competent flyer, yeah," James allowed, not volunteering anything about how cute she looked leisurely flying around when required to at school.

Mitch stood straighter, proud of his girl. "But you're a competitive flyer, aren't you Jim. That's your 'different' sort of sport, isn't it?"

"We call it quidditch," he said, launching into what he hoped was a simple explanation.

Mitch nodded along. "That thing you’re sat on -- “

“The broom?”

The word made Mitch cringe. “What have you. It wouldn't work for me, would it?"

James raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure. Not on your own, but my dad used to fly me around a bit, when I was little and couldn't do it myself. I suppose we could try to -- "

"Does he look little to you, you moron?" Vernon spat.

"Easy, Vernon,” Mitch said. “No need to get pissy with the lad.”

“The lad? As if he’s some harmless -- “ Vernon was sputtering, nearly choking. “This whole thing is just ludicrous. Floating broomsticks -- in broad daylight -- ”

“I’ve been careful. We’re well away from the road,” James said in a tone he considered placating but Vernon heard as patronizing. “And just in case, I’ve put a concealment on this whole area.”

“A concealment?" Vernon shouted. "You mean to tell me we're completely covered in some magic trick? Right now? Take it off! You take it off me this instant!"

"Easy, Vernon!" Mitch said.

"I will not go easy," Vernon said. "I am getting in the car and heading straight back to Petunia. I hope you'll come with me, Mitch. But one way or another, I'm leaving immediately. This bloody devil show-off can stay right here, for all I care."

Mitch shook himself, taking one last look at the broom. "Come along then, Jim. Let's be off with Vernon. It’ll upset Lily if we come back separately."

James nodded, reduced his broom to paintbrush size, and stashed it in his coat. "Right.”

The ride home was not quiet. Mitch spent the whole time banging on about rug bees, defusing Vernon’s rage. 

James was angry himself and angry at himself. How could he let a windbag like Vernon speak to him that way? He never would have stood for it at school. 

But at the same time, why had he performed like a magical monkey for Mitch? When was he ever going to grow up and become a proper adult who could fit himself into Lily Evans’s complicated life? Was this how she felt all the time? Out of sorts in the wizarding world where those idiot Death Eaters hounded her about not having a magical lineage, and then out of sorts outside the wizarding world for not being non-magical enough? In Vernon Dursley’s backseat, James stewed about it, gripping the handle of the car door hard enough to nearly spill himself out onto the motorway.

Dinner was ready when they arrived home. Over boiled potatoes and a roast beef, Petunia retold the story of how one of Vernon’s fellow executives had asked his secretary to get Petunia to bring coffee and sandwiches for two to a special noon-hour meeting in Vernon’s office, only to find the meeting was actually a blind date.

“And how about the pair of you now?” Cheryl asked, looking away from where Petunia brushed her nose against Vernon’s to where Lily and James sat at the table without touching or looking at each other. "School sweetheart stories are like office ones: the same, but different where it counts."

Lily glanced at James, prodding him with her elbow. “It’s only right that you start it.”

James began with a small laugh. “I saw Lily the first day of school, seven years ago. And I just liked her, for no reason I can explain. I liked her so well, I had to hate her best friend -- “

Cheryl frowned. “You hated Marlene?”

“No, Severus Snape,” James said.

Cheryl and Mitch looked at each other across the table, puzzled, not remembering. Mitch shrugged.

“The lonely vampire boy,” Lily clarified.

There was a chorus of ahs and nods.

“So nasty little James and his mates were at vicious odds with Severus all the way into fifth year,” Lily explained as James hid his face in his hands. “And then one day, it stopped. Just like that. James ignored us.”

“Sick with embarrassment. Couldn’t face her anymore after my extended awfulness,” James said.

“But I missed him,” Lily said, her voice soft, almost tremulous. “All of sixth year only seeing and hearing him from a distance -- it was so empty. I didn't miss his rowing with Severus. But I did miss him, and terribly.”

James was quiet, eyes fixed on Lily as if there was no one else in the room. Cheryl and Mitch saw that this pair of kids had never before told this story to each other. This was something of a confession, full of pain, forgiveness, tenderness, and longing.

“And then,” Lily resumed, “unexpectedly, the headmaster chose us to be Head Boy and Girl together.”

“From then,” James said, “it was only a matter of time. We spoke everyday. Shared an office. Worked together.” He shifted his hand on the table to cover hers, the way his old parents did to show affection for each other. Truly, the connection between James and Lily was old, older than their meeting when they were eleven, old as their souls.

They didn't move to embrace each other further, or to say anything more. They only sat in silence, hand in hand, alone but at a crowded table.

Mitch cleared his throat. “It’s dark outside now. If you’re going to ride that contraption of yours home, Jim, hadn’t you better be on your way soon?”

Lily startled, as if surprised to find her family still sitting so close to them. “Oh no, Dad. James won’t be flying home tonight.”

“No, I reckon I will be,” James said. “The cold is invigorating. It will do me good. I've got an important book to read at home, so I need to be awake.” He stood up, excusing himself, offering his thanks for the hospitality, even thanking Vernon for the ride in the car.

He and Lily took leave of each other in the back garden instead of the front this time. James’s broom was left leaning against the wall as he took her in his arms and kissed her goodbye. But it was for more than goodbye. It was for those years when they thought they were adversaries, not yet ready for each other, but already feeling the pull, the gravity of their twin stars. Maybe it was the stars making James’s hands burn against her skin this time, as they stood in the cold and he held her face and caressed her neck beneath her hair.

“It’s been an entire week,” he murmured against her lips, his breath ragged and quick from their kiss. “Let me say it, Lily. Please let me say it. It’s truer now than it was even an hour ago.”

She pressed her cheek against his. “You can whisper it, right into my ear, for me alone.”

She closed her eyes, her hands gripped to James’s arms, bracing herself as he told her, “I love you.”


	8. Eight

“Your eyes aren’t actually brown, are they?” Lily said, blinking into James’s face, her torso draped over his, her legs trailing along a settee in the Potters’ library where James sat upright beside and beneath her. “I think they’re what people might call hazel.”

She’d taken his glasses and James tried not to squint at her as he answered. “Hazel is what Mum calls them. I don’t argue when people say brown though. It’s not like it’s important.”

Lily cocked her head, leaning closer, until he looked just as blurry to her as she did to him. “Not important to most people, perhaps. But it is to me.”

James spoke against her lips, “Speaking of eye colour appreciation, that green is -- “

“Oh, for stars’ sake,” Sirius blurted from the far end of the settee. “I’m sitting right here.”

“Yes, but why?” James laughed at him, taking his glasses from Lily. “Go all Padfoot and find Remus to scratch your ears if we’re making you lonely.”

Sirius choked on his exasperation. “I'm here because I need to talk to you, obviously. I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got back.”

“Sorry, go ahead,” James said, trying not to be annoyed as Lily straightened herself to sit beside him instead of half on top of him.

Sirius was still eyeing Lily peevishly. 

“You don’t want to talk in front of me,” she said. “I get it. Your important matter is a bloke thing, isn’t it?”

“Nothing so jocular, I’m afraid. It’s -- oh, you'll just tell her all about it anyway, won’t you James. Fine. It's -- it’s that -- “ Sirius’s head fell into his hands, long black hair curtaining his face.

“I know that sigh,” James said, sighing himself. “It’s a family thing. Did you run into one of them in town? Did they bother you?”

“Yes,” Sirius admitted. “And it was worse than usual. Maybe worse than ever. It was Regulus.”

James passed Lily over his lap as she complained about being perfectly able to stand and move herself. There was a giggling struggle, maybe a squeal, before James was sitting close enough to pound Sirius fondly on the back.

Sirius sniffed at him. “Honestly, James, if I smelled you coming my way in a dark alley, I’d expect you to turn out to be a girl who’s been using Muggle soap all week.”

“Not sorry,” James said. “Now what’s this about Regulus?”

“He’s trying to recruit me,” Sirius said.

James frowned. “Unpleasant to be sure, but nothing new.”

“No, but the reason is new. They know about the map,” Sirius said, “They know we’re capable of that kind of tracking and surveillance. And they want it for their own purposes.”

James grabbed Sirius’s arm. “How do they know? Lily was the only person we told, and she didn’t -- . Peter -- was Pete tricked into -- ”

“No, no. It was me, on accident, of course,” Sirius confessed. “The last time I went home, I had the map. That Kreacher dumped my bag out right in the kitchen in front of the entire family. Said he wanted to get the washing, but of course it was a search. Regulus saw me dive for the map. I thought I got away with it at the time, but he must have come back to find what I was hiding. I don’t know how he would have got the ink to reveal itself, but he did, and then he told his cronies all about it. Now they want us to join up and work for them making maps just like it for wherever they like.”

“Never,” James said, gripping Lily’s hand as if the Death Eaters were storming the room in search of Muggle-born witches that very second.

“Right. That’s just what I told him,” Sirius said. “It’s what I’ve always told him, and my parents, and my shrew of a cousin -- everyone.”

Lily hummed. “Why would your brother expect you to do anything but refuse him? It's not like your absence from the Death Eaters would make your heart grow fonder of them.”

“What he said,” Sirius began, “what my kid brother looked me in the face and said was that to defy him was to defy the Dark Lord. It was a threat. He didn’t say it in as many words, but the message was clearly that we could come make the maps voluntarily, or else we would be forced to do it.”

“That little blighter…” James said.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sirius said. “He was trying to be severe but he was still himself, tender, scared. In his way, Reg said what he did as an act of mercy. What’s a threat but a warning, really?”

James was still muttering protests. “Force us into their service. That’s rubbish -- “

Sirius raised his head from his hands, eyes lit with anger. “Is it? It would have been bollocks last year but there’re more of them this year. They’ve had time to plot and organize. They’re stronger now -- “

“Yes, but so are we,” James said. “We’re not the bleeding Marauders anymore. We’re fully of age, all but out of school. Skilled and strong.”

"That's exactly the issue, James,” Sirius said, each of his hands clasped around James’s forearms, pulling him slightly away from Lily. “We’ve grown up. We’re also not a bunch of careless, troublesome trickster kids anymore. We can’t be. We’ve got responsibilities, and futures we can sense the shapes of now. We’ve got -- ”

Lily had closed a hand over Sirius’s as he held James’s arm. “You’ve got me,” she finished. “This is what you didn’t want to talk about in front of me, isn't it Sirius? It’s about me, the Mudblood girl who’s like a chink in your armour now.”

James and Sirius both winced at her use of the word. 

“Don’t you think of leaving,” James told her.

“I’m not.”

“And I’m not asking you to go either,” Sirius said. “Quite the opposite. Don’t leave, Lily. It was me who first saw that you and James have a destiny between you I wouldn’t dare disturb. But do be careful. Don’t go home. If you can't stay here, go straight to school. Don't wait for the holidays to end. Stay where you’ll be safe until this madness dies down. Even if it takes until after graduation, I’m sure Dumbledore will know somewhere you could hide out.”

“Hide out? You can’t be serious?” she said, and they were actually so serious no one even mentioned at the unintended pun.

James groaned as he began to speak. “He's right, Lily.”

Sirius fell back into the arm of the settee, relieved to have brought James along so quickly. Good old James. Now the task of convincing Lily to stay out of Cokeworth was out of Sirius’s hands and in his.

And it was no small task. Lily gave a small growl. “Fine, I may very well be a target of theirs. I can't deny that. But how am I different from anyone else the Death Eaters might want to harass? I don’t have magical parents, but I’m just as much a witch as any of you are wizards.”

“Yes, no one questions that. How could they?” James was saying. “But you’re on your own when you’re in Cokeworth. The closest wizard to you there is Snape.“

“I can handle Snape.”

“Maybe, but he’s a hindrance, not a helper,” James argued. “As for us, we’ve all got help. Peter’s got a whole house full of magical family to insulate him from harm. Remus has his parents, and all the protections they have to keep him in the house when he’s transformed also serve to keep intruders out. Sirius and I have each other here, and this old enchanted house has so many protective charms built into it that, frankly, we may have forgotten about some of them. And then there’s my parents -- “

Lily scoffed.

“I know,” James said piling their hands together on his knee. “They don’t look like they’re capable of much, but magical strength ages better than brute strength -- “

Lily snatched her hands away, standing up. “Brute strength? You’re saying my family are brutes?”

James’s eyes widened, alarmed. “No, of course not. But you've got to admit when it comes to defending themselves, without magic all they have is -- ”

She raised an arm, summoning her coat. “Are all non-magical people brutes to the pair of you then?”

Sirius waved his arms, as if shielding himself with them.

“No one said that,” James said, rising to stand beside her. “Now don’t go off mad. I just finished explaining it’s not safe out there.”

“I do not take orders from you,” she said, jamming her arms into her sleeves. “And I won't talk about this any more today.”

“Lily -- “

“You’re not my custodian, nor my keeper, James Potter,” she snapped, her voice quavering. “You’re supposed to be my partner.”

“How can you doubt -- “

But there was no time for James to finish. Lily’s wand was drawn and she was turning on the spot, apparating away. He lunged at her, quick as a chaser on a quaffle, spinning into her turn with her, grabbing at her arms in the instant before she vanished. The library twisted around them, out of sight. Falling as they traveled, they appeared in their new location not standing but lying down, Lily’s back pressed to James’s front.

“What are you doing, coming here?” she hissed in a whisper to him.

“Here? Where are we? I’ve never seen this place before,” he said. 

She shushed him. "If we can hear them, they can hear us."

There were indeed voices and footsteps, muffled as if travelling through walls or floors. James listened, puzzling over whose they were. He’d lost his glasses in their tackle, and all he could sense of his surroundings was that they were in a small, dim room with sloping ceilings, lying under a rectangle of light, like a window to a sky where the sun had just set. 

“It smells nice," James said, tipping his face into her hair. "More than nice. Is this somewhere at your place? It doesn't smell like cigarettes, so...”

She huffed in frustration. “Yes, it's mine. Upstairs in my room, where no one smokes. I’ve thrown myself into bed to cry about Death Eaters and you acting like an overbearing git, and you’ve gone and spoiled it by tagging along.”

James couldn’t help but gasp. “We’re in your bed? Where every night you dream about -- “

“Sleep. It’s where I sleep, James,” she said. “I don’t dream every night. And you know what the soulmate books say. No matter what I dream, it’s not an astral projection of you. You have never truly been here before. Not magically, not physically."

His chin moved against the crown of her head as he swallowed. "But I'm here now. Magically and -- and physically.”

She said nothing, keeping still, her arms folded against her stomach, not yet finished being angry.

He loosed a long sigh. “I'm sorry we tried to tell you where to go,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don't want to boss, but I'm scared. I’ll own it. If anything happened to you, here by yourself, how could I live with that?"

"We can't talk this over right now. This isn't a manor house. Someone is bound to hear you." As she'd spoken, Lily had turned to bring them face to face. "Your glasses. Have you lost them?"

"Somewhere," he said. "Maybe here. Maybe at home. Maybe in that twisting in-between space we have to apparate through. That place must be packed with loose galleons and lost specs."

She sat up beside him. "Let me check around here for them before I send you off."

He started to sit up beside her.

She placed a hand on his sternum, holding him down. "You keep still. No excess noise. No creaking bed springs or loud footfalls. And anyway, you can't very well help find your glasses when you can hardly see without them."

James conceded with a quiet grunt, settling into Lily's bed as she felt the blankets and pillows in the dark for the hard edge of his glasses.

"You're not lying on them, are you?" she asked.

"I think I'd feel if -- ” James’s whispered answer cut itself short. Lily had fastened both of her hands to his right flank and tugged hard, as if to look underneath him for the glasses. But his resistance was less than she expected, and she rolled him into her, knocking herself onto her back, her head on her pillow, his torso rolled onto her lap.

James propped himself on his hands, as if to roll off of her. The upward movement brought their faces level, his looking down at hers. The moon had risen in the window, the white light creating a shadow, carving a black outline along his forehead and cheekbones, his mouth. It was somehow surreal. And as she looked up at him, something changed, flashing through Lily’s mind and eyes. This was the dream, its beginning. It happened here, like this. It was natural for him to be here, necessary. It was as if this happened all the time, and as if it had to happen now.

She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. James came forward eagerly, hopeful and thankful for this sign she wasn't angry anymore. As he held himself above her, the kiss deepened quickly, as it usually did between them now. His voice sounded and she left off kissing to hush him again, pushing hard against both his shoulders. 

He let himself be moved onto his back beside her, resigned to this fit of affection being over already. But it wasn't over. She was on top of him now, straddling his middle, too high to grind against him but tugging his shirt out of his waistband.

“Lily?" he said. "Lily, wait. Say something, love."

"What?" was all she said, desperate to touch his skin, sighing and falling against him as her fingers made contact, splaying on the smooth, warm, taut flesh over both of his sides, at his waist. It was all hers, all of it, and she purred as her hands tracked over James's contours, rising over his chest.

He groaned. "Say enough that I know you're not bewitched. Lily -- stars, please.”

Why was he like this, she thought, saying nothing. James didn't ask questions when he was in her bed. Typically, he said little, occupied with devouring her. And where were his hands? He didn't usually grab the sheets by fistfuls, leaving her untouched like this. No, in bed James touched her everywhere, exactly as she wanted, because she belonged to him and he knew...

"Lily, if someone comes in, I'm not going to be able to stand up right away," he moaned as she arrived at his mouth again, his shirt now hiked up to his armpits, her knees bracing his sides as she kissed him, her hands pressed to his pectoral muscles, his heart thundering against her palm.

“Lily, love, you have to speak to me…”

His voice wasn't right. It was shaking with desire but also with nerves. What did he have to be nervous about? It’s not as if, after all this time, he’d never…

But it was. He wasn’t bed-James, from her dreams. Not yet. And she wasn't sleeping. She was wide awake and this was real James, who had never had his hands inside her clothes, who said he loved her even without that. What had she done to him?

She sat back with a gasp, kneeling on one side of him, hiding her face behind her hair. "James, I'm so sorry." She peeked out of her hair to pinch the hem of his shirt between two fingers and pull it back to his waist. 

He lay breathless beside her, chest heaving inside his shirt now, one hand twisted in his own hair. With his other hand, he patted her back. "Don't be sorry. But perhaps do explain yourself. Did you get bewitched just now? Last we talked about it, you said you didn't want to be pregnant yet, but -- what was that?”

Still silent, she sat shaking her head. “I don’t know. But it wasn’t you. You did nothing wrong -- ”

He sat up and hugged her tightly but chastely against himself. “Neither did you.”

“Didn’t I?”

“Did it feel wrong?” he asked.

She frowned, thinking. “No, it felt -- it felt like it did when I made the prophecy in your cellar. It was me, a powerful kind of me, and more than me too. It was that other presence, that “and” one from the first prophecy.”

James scoffed. “Why would the cosmos waste a prophecy telling us we’re going to do it someday?”

Lily swatted at his arm.

“Oh, now she’s all prim again,” James smirked.

She glanced at the door. Why couldn’t this boy infamous for sneaking all over Hogwarts undetected manage to whisper properly in her bedroom? “You really need to leave,” she said. “But I will tell you one thing, in case there’s a next time, and you have to stop me again…”

James gulped as he waited for her to continue.

“I’m beginning to think your mum was right about something.” She closed her eyes, gathering strength. “About a baby. Not that he’ll be the chosen one, necessarily, but that soulmates are driven to have children together in a particularly powerful way. Just now, I felt like I had to be with you, and like I’d been with you a thousand times already.”

It was too heavy of a topic and he had to lighten it. “A thousand? That boring?”

“No,” she said, as seriously as ever. “Quite the contrary. James, we’re going to have to be so careful or else...”

“We are careful,” he said, holding her face in his hands. “You were straddling me in your bed with my clothes half pulled off and even then nothing got out of control -- “

“No thanks to me.”

“No, it was you,” he said. “I didn’t struggle free and apparate home, though I could have tried. Instead, I laid here like a babbling piece of meat until you realized what was happening and stopped on your own. You did that, Lily.”

Her chin was shaking, on the verge of tears again. “Babbling piece of meat,” she said. “I love you.”

James cooed and held her close again, kissing the top of her hair. “Of course you do. You’re my soulmate.”

“Lil-lay!” someone called from downstairs.

“Coming!” she called back. “You’ve got to go. Now.”

“What about you? You can’t stay here alone,” James argued.

“I can. I have to.” She was shoving him onto the floor where he could apparate away. “One more night. I’ll tell my parents I need to study for NEWTs and head back tomorrow.”

“Promise me,” he said, clasping her hand.

“Lil-lay!”

“Yes, just go!”

“Lily, you hopeless freak, get downstairs.”

James vanished just as Petunia threw open the bedroom door.

\---------------------------------

James returned to his bedroom where Sirius was waiting on the sofa by the fire. He jumped slightly as James reappeared but was soon smirking.

“Looks like the pair of you made up then,” he said. 

James’s hands went to his hair. “Does it?”

“Either that or you’ve been off getting mauled by some creature intent on untucking that stodgy Oxford shirt.”

James squinted at his rumpled clothes.

“Here, you left these on the rug downstairs,” Sirius said, producing James’s glasses from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, thanks.” James stepped up to take them. 

As he did, Sirius sat forward as if slightly alarmed, sniffing at him. “Got a bit more heated than usual."

"Do you always have to mention it?"

Sirius laughed. “Sorry. No need to take your frustration out on me.”

James collapsed onto the sofa. "I'm going to marry her, Rus. Not years and years in the future. Soon."

"It's 1978, mate. You don't have to marry her just so you can -- ”

“It’s not a matter of having to marry Lily,” James interrupted. “I want to. So badly. I feel almost like I already have.”

“Well, you haven't,” Sirius said. “And you're being ridiculous. I know Hogwarts doesn't make it easy to take a relationship to the next level -- all those chastity charms everywhere. But especially now we can apparate out of the castle, there are ways around all of that.”

“I don't need to get around anything. I need to marry Lily Evans and stay with her all the time.” He dropped his fist listlessly on the cushion beside himself. “I feel sick being here without her in times like these, with the Death Eaters turning their eyes to people our age. I should be in Cokeworth tonight, keeping her safe until she goes back to school in the morning.”

“At least you convinced her to go back. Well done,” Sirius said. “I suppose that means we’ll be going back too.”

James nodded. “Yeah, I will be. You can do as you please, of course. Stay here with Mum and Dad as long as you like. This place is supposed to be your home.”

“Nah, I'll go back," he said. "We should all go back. Maybe we can use the quiet time to find out more about this Order of the Phoenix thing. You can't tell me it's not named after Dumbledore‘s familiar. He must know everything about it."

"Yes, well he's not telling us anything."

"Not yet," Sirius said. "But they’ve got to stop treating us like infants and let us join in doing something. The Death Eaters are consuming their own young, after all. Why not our side?"

——-----------

Lily lay in bed, restless, both glorying in the smell of James Potter on her pillow, and considering getting up to change the pillow slip so she could relax and fall to sleep. 

She raised one finger and traced the grill of the window at her side. The glass was cold. Petunia slept at the warm end of the room. But Lily preferred the view in spite of the draught, even if it was just rows if drab, grey houses. There was sky enough above it. All at once, the glass rattled. She froze, listening, her fingertips still pressed to the window pane. Someone was outside, signalling to her with gentle blasts from a wand.

James must be back.

She sprang out of bed, reaching for the fuzzy brown cardigan he'd given her, then her wand before creeping outside.

The back garden appeared empty as she arrived. In the distance, a dog barked. It was colder outside than she thought it would be, wind cutting through James’s cardigan, and him not yet springing forward to wrap her up inside his coat with him. 

Lily hazarded a whisper. "Who's there?"

No one answered, though she thought she might have heard the crunch of gravel under the sole of a shoe. She raised her wand, the flesh on her arms pricking with cold and fear. "Come out," she ordered, no longer expecting James. "Come out or, so help me, I will hex the living daylights — ”

At that moment, a swath of the black shadow on the wall of the house seemed to detach itself, and a figure stepped into the moonlight.

“Severus.” Lily did not lower her wand.

“Lily,” he nodded.

Her eyes darted around the yard. “Why have you called me out? Are you alone?"

"This time, yes," he said, stepping closer in spite of her wand. 

At last, she lowered it. “What do you want?”

He sucked in a great breath through his nose. “I come with an offer. Unprecedented times are about to commence. We push toward a new world, but revolution never comes without a cost.”

“Cost,” Lily sneered. “What are you on about? Are you threatening me?”

He clucked his tongue. “No. I have come to help.”

James’s voice was in her mind. “He’s a hindrance, not a helper.” 

Severus spoke over it. “Had I not properly aligned myself with rising powers, I, a half-blood child from this forsaken place, might have paid the cost myself. But as it is, I have developed skills and associations which make me valuable, worthy, powerful.”

“Sev, you sound crazy.”

In one long stride he was in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “Listen to me. I’ve gone on at some length about your skills as a potioneer, and I’ve nearly convinced them to take you on in spite of your own lineage. Come with me now. After a demonstration, I’m sure they’ll be won over. We’ll show them you’re a worthy exception to blood purity.”

She tugged at her hands but he held them. “I am not interested in working as a potioneer for anyone, especially not your disgusting Death Eaters. Why don’t you go ask Narcissa Black to do it?”

He let her go. “You’re still mad about that, are you?”

“About you dumping me as your potions partner and swapping in Narcissa right in the middle of our OWL year just because Lucius Malfoy told you to? Yes, Severus. That was highly disruptive and cowardly and mean and you have never explained nor apologized -- “

“I am sorry,” he hissed into her ear. “It had to be done to get me into the position I now occupy. One from which I can help you.”

“Don’t help me,” she said, stepping away, her arms folded, holding the cardigan closer. “I’m not pursuing a career in potions anyway. I’m doing divination.”

Severus scoffed so loudly the distant dog barked again. “Divination. Rubbish.”

“It’s not. And I’m gifted at it -- “

“No,” he was shaking his head. “You’d throw away all you’ve accomplished in a hard magic like potions for stargazing and peering at smudges on dirty dishes?”

“All I’ve accomplished? You mean following potions instructions for class assignment, like recipes in a cookbook?” she raved. “Any fool with the sense to be meticulous could do it. Divination is real magic. Vast and cosmic -- ”

“Oh, to be sure,” he sneered. “And what are your accomplishments there? Weather forecasts like a filthy Muggle on my father’s television set?”

“I will have you know,” she said, “that I already have a prophecy orb to my credit.”

The sneer fell from Snape’s face, and she knew she had made a terrible mistake in telling him about the orb. “Where is it. Show it to me.” It was not a request.

“I don’t carry it around in my pajamas, of course,” she said, honestly enough.

“You’re lying. Making a fool of me. There’s no such orb,” he insisted.

She said nothing, shivering in her parents’ back garden, scowling into the distance.

His hands gripped her upper arms, and she was almost grateful for their heat. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Go inside. We will talk about this again once we’re back at school. Think on it. Align yourself with this side now, or fall to it in the end.” He released her, turning to go.

“One more thing,” she said. “One thing you should hear from me before we’re back at school. I’m with James now.”

Snape spun on his heel to face her. “With? With James? James who?”

“James Potter,” she said. “We’re together. A couple. Peter’s sisters have been telling everyone. Word of it is going to be all over the school by the time we get back so I -- “

There was a crack so loud Lily threw herself on the cold ground, her hands over her head, expecting to be struck by lightning or the debris of a landslide. But nothing followed the noise. The echoes died and the garden was quiet again, not even a whimper from the distant dog. Severus had gone.


	9. Nine

With two days left in Christmas holidays, Lily Evans came through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts castle and let herself into the Head Boy/Head Girl office for the first time since falling in love with James Potter. The chairs, the rug, the shelves, the schedules tacked to the walls inked in both of their handwriting -- all of it was the same as before the holidays, and also completely different. 

James hadn’t returned yet, but he was visible in every little thing. He was there in a quill on the desktop that he had once tucked behind his ear, unwittingly making himself look something like a Muggle pirate with the plume curling and flouncing at his temple. She’d laughed at him, but it hadn’t embarrassed him. He’d enjoyed it, delighted to have her alone in this room, their room, laughing. She lifted the quill from the desk and slid it behind her own ear.

On the coat stand in the corner hung an assortment of Gryffindor scarves of all lengths and sizes, ones forgotten all over the school and its grounds, returned here to wait for their owners to come looking to claim them. And draped over this tangle of red and gold knitting was a quidditch practice jacket marked with James’s number and name.

Yes.

Lily folded herself into the jacket, feeling inside its lining for the over-long sleeves. It was a bit grubby, grass stains from the quidditch pitch on the cuffs and elbows. She gathered the collar close to her face. It smelled like James, but not like the clean James sitting in the library at the Potters’ manor or coming to visit her parents in Cokeworth. It smelled like a warm, athletic, musky James, lithe and woodsy.

She was still enthralled with smelling it when behind her, there was a crash of wood on stone. She jumped and turned to see that someone had flung the door of the office open forcefully enough to send it banging into the wall.

“Severus,” she said. “Honestly, a simple knock will do.”

He shut the door with equal flourish and came swooping into the room like an enormous, irate bat. His physical presence was maturing, growing tall and grave, the darkness about him less comical than it used to be, as he grew into his own manner. 

“I must see it,” he told her.

She stepped back. “What are you on about now?” she asked, though she was slowly reaching past James’s jacket to close her hand around the prophecy orb in the pocket of her robes. 

Dressed as she was, in clothing of Potter’s, Severus could only glance at her for an instant before wrenching his neck away. “Come now, Lily. You said you had a prophecy orb of your own already. If you can show it to them, prove it to them, I’m sure they’d take you on as a diviner instead of a potioneer, like you wanted.”

She scoffed. “Them? Your Death Eaters? When did I ever say I wanted to be brought on by them as anything at all?”

In a swirl of black robes he was behind the desk, in front of her, his hands on her wrists in spite of them being clad in James Potter’s muddy cuffs. She had to be told. She had to see that in order to survive, all of this nonsense needed to be set aside. “Enough, Lily. You’ve had your holiday fling with the insufferably arrogant golden boy. You've got out of your system what you know in your heart the pair of your cannot sustain -- “

“I know no such thing -- “

“And you’ve had your time as the exalted Head Girl of Hogwarts. Everyone has seen you elevated to that honour. Savour the achievement, but know that you must now accept that the only way for you to stay safe in the coming days is to come along with me. They won’t tolerate much more of your defiance. In this, to defy me is to defy the Dark Lord himself. Please, Lily...“

Lily was still struggling to free herself from his hold on her wrists, and as she did, Severus sensed that her right hand was not empty. He gasped at the sight of the smooth, shiny, grey contour visible between her fingers. 

“That’s it there. The orb. It’s real.” He was nearly smiling, relieved to have something to report to the others, something to make her irresistible to them.

“It’s real. And it’s none of your business,” she said, tugging hard enough that he should have let go of her. But he continued to hold her somehow, as if drawing from a reserve of strength beyond his own.

At last he released her left hand, shifting his fingers as if to touch the orb himself, her fingers not long or broad enough to cover it completely.

“Don’t!” she shouted. “Don’t touch it, Sev. Prophecies have been known to seriously injure people who take them without proper consent of the people they pertain to. If you’d taken divination yourself you’d know that. Stop, believe me -- “

His fingers halted in their advance. He rubbed their tips together, weighing the risks, thinking. He had begun moving toward the orb again when another voice called out.

“What’s all this then?” It was James, standing in the open door of the office, half scowling, half smirking. “Looking good Evans,” he said, nodding at the quill billowing over her ear and his jacket on her back. “Tell me what we can do for you, Snape, and then you can be on your way.”

Lily was speechless, stunned to hear James speaking so civilly to Severus, as if he was an ordinary student visiting the Head Girl for help with some ordinary problem, and doing it in an ordinary way. 

Snape was speechless as well, his hand still closed like a claw around Lily’s wrist as she held the orb. And here was Potter, too proud, too superior to Snape now that Lily accepted him to even bother being angry.

James broke the silence. “Accio prophecy,” he said. The orb shot out of Lily’s hand and James caught it in his own bare palm. 

In spite of Lily’s warning, Severus lunged to catch it as it flew by him. Once he knew he'd missed it, Severus stood waiting, teeth bared, brows drawn, braced to see James collapse onto the floor, injured by the protective spell on the orb. There was no fall. James simply pocketed it himself, as if he had every right to it.

This was the final insult. Snape would bear no more. He snarled, spun in a circle behind James and Lily’s desk, and swooped out of the room even more battishly than he’d arrived.

James dropped everything he still held -- books and parchments falling to the floor. Lily filled his arms. He plunged his face into her hair, knocking the quill from behind her ear. “Are you alright?” he breathed.

She nodded into his chest. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “Thank you for staying so calm.”

James let out his breath. “Wasn’t easy,” he muttered. He stooped to press his forehead to hers. “That git. He completely ruined my plans for our touching Head Boy/Head Girl reunion.”

“Reunion?” she laughed. “I saw you only yesterday. We haven’t even been separated for twenty-four hours.”

“Too long,” he said, his mouth settling just below her ear.

She melted into him even as she protested. “James, he’s left the door open.”

He pulled her close and walked himself backward, kicking the door shut and leaning against it. “There we are,” he said. “Now may I please snog you in this room? I’ve only been fantasizing about it since I got the letter last summer announcing I was Head Boy.”

Confident in her reply, James was already kissing her cheeks as she made her answer. “Will that work? Or is this one of those rooms charmed against unwed snogging and that sort of thing?”

“Only one way to find out.” He spun around, her back against the door instead of his now, as he brought their lips together. She tipped her head, her skull against the wood, the nape of her neck cradled in the bunched hood of the quidditch jacket. Between the door and James’s hands gripped to the collar at the front of the jacket, she was unable to back away as the kiss became more involved. Her heart rate jumped as she sensed her own captivity. The combination of helplessness to him and trust in him was shockingly invigorating. She felt it in her knees and fingertips. Her hands tracked up his arms, covering his fists as they held onto either side of the collar of the jacket, loosely but firmly.

“You need to keep this jacket,” he breathed into her mouth. "Wear it everywhere. Always. Graduation, Petunia‘s wedding, our wedding night -- ”

“James -- ”

“It’s not just me, it's the prophecy.”

“But you’ll need your jacket for practice. You’ll get cold out there.” Her advice made sense in spite of the breathy tremor in her voice.

He shook his head, and she took advantage of the return of her range of motion to lean into a kiss against his neck. “No," he said, "you’ve only to let me see you wearing my name in the stands. That’ll keep me warm enough at practice.”

She was turning, bringing him with her, his back against the door now. “But that's something a quaffle-bunny would do,” she protested. “So tacky.”

“Quaffle-bunny?”

“Someone who chases quidditch players with lascivious intent,” she explained, rising toward his neck again.

“Well, I’ve got news for you, Evans -- stars -- Lily, you’re going to leave a mark if you -- oi! Yeah, that ought to...”

The door was shuddering against his spine, shaken by heavy knocking from the other side, three fists pounding out of rhythm, three voices calling out to them.

“Open up!”

“I require the immediate assistance of the Head Boy!”

“Potter, stop your drooling all over that innocent girl.”

Lily’ mouth broke from James’s skin with a crack. “What did he say about drooling?”

James groaned a laugh. “It’s Padfoot. All of them really. Thanks to being part rat and dogs, they can smell when you’ve got my saliva on you -- ”

“Open up!”

“ -- and they can hear voices through doors.”

Lily was wiping her mouth and throat, tossing James’s jacket back on the stand, and trying to look properly busy, sitting at the desk. “They didn’t hear or smell anything.”

“Right,” James smirked.

He let the lads inside.

“Back at it already, you two?” Remus said. “Guess that’s why you’re Head Boy and not us, eh James? So dedicated to this office.”

“I must know,” Sirius said, one arm around Remus’s neck, the other around Peter’s. “What did the pair of you do to Snape? He came skulking past us in the corridor like he was positively traumatized. I was almost afraid for him.”

Lily looked up from where she was pretending to work. The lads were still jovial but her face was grave. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

James obeyed and came to sit on the desk at her side.

“Severus has approached me twice in the past two days, trying to recruit me for the Death Eaters,” she said. “Once at my house, and again here, moments ago.”

James scoffed, angry. “That was his idea of a membership drive, was it?"

Sirius hummed. “Recruiting, just like Regulus did with the lot of us.”

“Exactly like that,” Lily nodded. “He even said that to defy him was to defy their Dark Lord, or whatever he’s got them calling him now.”

James was grumbling. “What did he give as their reason? With us they were on about the map. What exactly do they want from you? I thought they would have objected to your parents, or some such rubbish.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “Severus is arguing I'm exceptional. They know I’ve already produced a prophecy orb. I didn’t intend for Severus to find out, but he did.”

A round of hissing and groaning sounded from the lads.

“But he doesn’t know what the prophecy’s about,” Lily finished.

“Yeah, well none of us does,” Peter added. “It’s all mysterious and weird.”

“It is. But Severus must know now that the orb has got something to do with James and me, together. He saw James take it from me without getting rebuffed by a protective spell just now,” Lily admitted. 

James hung his head too. “Ack, that's right. Sorry, I just couldn't stand him looking at it. Seemed obscene.”

Remus shook his head, and Sirius said, “That’s an awfully careless thing for the smartest students in the school to let happen, isn’t it?”

“That’s just what it is,” Lily agreed, miserable. 

James covered her hand in his. “Snape and his creep friends have no idea about sharing a prophecy with someone, or love magic or -- or soulmates, and what have you. They don’t trade in any of that and never will.”

“We should go to Dumbledore anyway,” Remus said. 

Peter's eyes bugged in alarm. "What can he do?"

"We don't know, Pete. That's why we'd go to see him," Sirius said. “He should at least be warned that Death Eater recruitment has moved beyond flattery and family loyalty and into threats. Someone could get hurt here at school.”

James decided. “Right, let’s go then.”

As Head Boy and Girl, Lily and James had special access to Dumbledore, a password of their own at the gargoyle to the headmaster’s tower. They had to wait a little, but at last the spiral staircase was emerging from the floor to bear them up for an audience with him.

When they arrived, Dumbledore stood as if in conversation with a red bird, his familiar, his phoenix. Remus’s pulse surged at the sight of it, as if the wily old man was giving them a sign, an invitation. The Order of the Phoenix -- perhaps it was real, and perhaps it was something they could ally themselves with, and use to protect each other.

“Ah, my senior Gryffindors,” Dumbledore said as left the bird to receive them. “And Miss Evans and Mr. Potter coming hand in hand. Yes, this happens with our Head Boys and Girls quite often. Glad to have been of help.”

His smile faded when instead of blushing, James and Lily simply nodded.

It was Remus who spoke. “Sir, we’d like to report some movement among Death Eater recruiters during the break…” He had a way with talking to adults, explaining things clearly, calmly, but still with a sense of importance. And he could talk convincingly about the Death Eaters’ interest in the lads as if it was general, without betraying the secret map or the orb.

Dumbledore hummed as Remus finished. “Threatening to press you into their service by force. It’s the natural progression of their movement, I suppose. Yet most troubling to see realized. And I regret to see Regulus and Severus involved. Yes, most troubling.”

“Is there anything we can do beyond refusing them?” Remus pressed. “Any way to organize ourselves? A movement we can rally ‘round?”

Dumbledore sat chuckling behind his desk. “You have heard of our Order.”

“Yes sir.”

“Last term of school, so you will all be of age by now, isn’t that right?” He needed no answer. It was true. “We tend to be more careful with Muggle-born students like Miss Evans. Their parents have the number eighteen in their heads as being of age. But your birthday is in a couple of weeks, isn’t it?”

Lily nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Has Miss McKinnon been speaking to you of the Order?” he asked her.

“Marlene? Oh no. She’s said nothing.”

Dumbledore sat back, satisfied. “There’s a good girl. Stay close to her, Miss Evans. Her parents are Order members and it’s afforded her certain privileges already. If it turns out the five of you can do more, a message from the Order will come to you through Marlene McKinnon.” He was standing up, as if to show them out. “Thank you so much for coming by. I will see you all at -- “

“What about this, sir?” James had stepped forward, the prophecy orb balanced in his fingertips.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened. “Mr. Potter, did you manage to produce -- “

“No, it wasn’t me,” he rushed to say. “It was Lily. She’s been studying divination at school and on her own. And she’s talented. But this thing -- it just kind of happened. And Snape knows about it.”

Dumbledore stooped, one eye shut to inspect the orb as James held it. “Miss Evans conjured this, but you can handle it. So it’s a prophecy about the pair of you?”

“We had assumed so, sir,” Lily said, stepping up to take James’s free hand.

“Pardon me for intruding,” Dumbledore said, “but did this orb appear at an important juncture in your budding relationship?”

Lily nodded, finally blushing. “Yes sir.”

Maybe she imagined it, but at that moment, Lily thought she saw a shudder run through Dumbledore’s posture.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he said, his arms extended toward Sirius, Remus, and Peter. “I need a word alone with my Head Boy and Girl, if you please.”

Sirius twitched as if about to protest being sent away with nothing but a vague sense of having to wait, but Remus clapped a hand on his shoulder to lead him out. It didn’t bear arguing. James would tell them everything later.

The staircase ground back into the floor, and James and Lily were alone with the headmaster. He brought his hands together in a slow, soundless clap. “Among our kind, a prophecy at the moment a love match is declared is the hallmark of soulmates. You know this.”

“Yes,” James said when Dumbledore didn’t go on. “That’s what my parents said as well.”

“They would have been expecting it,” Dumbledore said, tapping his chin. “Fleamont and Euphemia would have made a star chart at your birth. Surely they would have foreseen such a destiny for their heirs.”

“I suppose they did,” James agreed.

Dumbledore hummed. “I’m afraid I must intrude further upon the privacy of what must have been an exceptionally tender moment.” He paced once across the room. “What is the substance of this prophecy? What does it say? Does it,” he paused to pace one more round, “does it speak of time?”

“Yes,” Lily blurted. “It says there isn’t much time, and we must never leave each other.” She left out the part about the “and” as well as the signs of a baby chosen one on Monty and Effie’s star chart. But watching Dumbledore take in the news of what the prophecy had said, she felt that somehow, he knew.

He sat in an armchair below the bird’s perch. He seemed to be talking quietly to himself. James and Lily kept quiet, still hand in hand on his settee. 

“Tom Riddle is wicked, but he is no fool,” Dumbledore went on, louder now. “Though his judgment is shot through with flaws, a rather dangerous one is his too ready reliance on prophecy. He finds his fellow men and women worthless, weak, and discounts their power to choose their destinies for themselves.”

He leaned against the back of his chair, closing his eyes. “When Severus makes his report, Tom Riddle will see that there is an emerging pair of soulmates at Hogwarts. There is powerful magic in that. Magic he does not understand but will desire for himself, if only so no one else may have it.” He opened his eyes. “Expect his efforts to recruit you to be redoubled. And the next time you defy him, it will not be through Severus Snape.”

Lily shifted on the settee. “What do we do then?”

The headmaster gave a great sigh. “You choose. You may choose to do as your prophecy says, and never leave each other, which means,” he sighed again, interrupting himself. “Ah, you are so young…”

“Please, sir,” James said. “Tell us plainly. What does it mean?”

“Marriage,” Dumbledore said. “There’s no plainer way to say it. It means sealing your soulbond with marriage.”

Lily made a sound between a laugh and a gasp.

“But sir, we’re still in school,” James said.

“Yes, it would be disruptive and would have to be hidden from your fellow students. And by Muggle law, which we make some efforts not to contravene, it can happen no sooner than Miss Evans’s eighteenth birthday. But until it does, you are each particularly vulnerable. Tom Riddle knows it and will move quickly. If you choose marriage, you will be stronger, safer, of more service to the Order should they call on you. And you may also...” 

He let his words trail away, standing up instead, lifting a hand to invite James and Lily to rise as well. “I would never ask this of you,” he said. “To enter marriage so early -- it is too much. You must choose it yourselves, or not. I am only telling you of the choice that lies before you.”

Lily swallowed hard. “What if we choose not to ma-marry?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then you must part to assure Tom Riddle there is no soulbond. Mr. Potter will complete the rest of his year and his preparations for the NEWTs at home, with tutors and the help of his parents. Miss Evans will stay here. You may speak to one another again after Tom Riddle has destroyed himself, however long that takes.” 

He paused, looking them over as they stood on the rug in his office, hands still clasped, the prophecy orb still visible in James’s grip. Oh, they were so lovely. 

“And it may take considerably longer for Tom to be destroyed with the pair if you separated, with no chance of you… No, I’m sorry,” Dumbledore said. “You have much to think about. Go back to your friends, get some rest. Come to me again once you’ve decided whether or not to part. I can give you only until the day before Miss Evans’s birthday.”

\-------------------

They were back in Lily and James’s office, all five of them. James and Lily leaned on the front edge of the desk, while the three other lads sat stunned in their chairs.

Sirius launched himself to standing. “You can't,” he said. “It’s madness. You're seventeen, for stars’ sake.”

“Yes, it would be mad under normal circumstances,” James agreed. 

“But we’re not in normal circumstances,” Peter finished for him.

“Oh, come off it, Pete,” Sirius said. “Remus, talk sense to them. They can't let some crazy old man push them into marriage while they're still at school.”

“Two crazy old men,” Lily added. “There’s Mr. Potter pushing for us to either marry or never see each other again too.”

“Only old Monty wants a baby out of it, doesn't he?" Sirius raved. “That’s what this is about. Not your love, but his heir.”

Lily startled. "James, you told them about the grandchild? How could you tell them about that?"

James was stammering toward an answer when Remus spoke up. "It's not his fault, Lily. We kept guessing right and he's terrible at lying to us."

"Well, my parents would hate it -- marriage, grandchild, all of it. They made that very clear," Lily said. "Did you tell your mates that too, James Potter? That my mother saw right through you without any magic, looked you in the face and forbade you to get me in a family way?"

James and Lily fell into a whispering spat as Sirius continued to rave. "Is that all you have to say, Remus? Your voice of reason is suddenly struck dumb?"

Remus was finally piqued enough to stand up and face Sirius. "Why is it me you're angry with right now?"

"Because you're doing nothing to stop this."

"What can he do?" Peter added. "What can any of us do?"

"That's it exactly," Remus nearly shouted, taking Sirius by both arms. "We've been over what everyone thinks: Dumbledore, Monty and Effie, the Evanses, even our own feelings about it, Rus. But it's not for any of us to decide. It's up to them, to James and Lily alone." 

Sirius twisted out of Remus's hold. "Well that's easy," he sneered. "James told me what he wants already, before any of this talk with Dumbledore. He wants to marry her, and as soon as he can."

Lily's angry whispering cut itself short. "He -- what?"

James clenched his eyes closed, groaning and turning in a circle. "Stop making horrible proposals on my behalf and get out of here," he said.

With James pushing from behind, Remus dragging at his jacket from the front, and Peter following behind, they got Sirius out of the office. James locked the door and turned back to find Lily sitting at the desk, her head resting on it, the prophecy orb spinning on the blotter in front of her.

He didn't know what to say. Should he apologize for something? Should he propose, as best he could, right now? There was no way for him to know, not yet. So instead, he said, "Shall we go downstairs for something to eat?"

She breathed a laugh through her nose. "I suppose even doomed soulmates have to eat." 

"Doomed?" he said, watching as she pocketed the orb and came toward him.

"Only joking," she said, taking his hand. "It's just odd how instead of being happy for us for finding each other, everyone acts like being soulmates makes us suddenly tragic."

James held her close, his eyes rapt with concern as he stared down at her. "Does all of this make you feel tragic yourself?"

She paused, watching his face as she considered. "No," she said. "It makes me feel -- love.”

He kissed her, not hotly and hungrily, as he had earlier against the door, but sweetly, with all the devotion he could gather. It was gentle and warm, like a wedding kiss. When he pulled away, her fingers stayed in his hair, soothing him as she combed through the dark, coarse mass. 

“How does it make you feel?" she asked.

His answer came quickly. "Like I care nothing for doom. Like all I care about is staying with you, wherever that leads, and however mad it sounds." 

He had said it through a smile, squeezing her around the waist and spinning them across the floor of their office, playful enough that she wasn't sure how sincere he could be. But she loved the sound of it all the same.


	10. Ten

The holidays were over and the Hogwarts Express was due at Hogsmeade station in the next half hour. Though they weren't on it, the Head Boy and Girl had been sent to meet the train that evening. They sat at the head of a convoy of empty carriages, riding to the station as the sun set.

“You know Muggles take riding in carriages to be romantic,” Lily said. “On the night they got engaged, Vernon paid for a man with a team of enormous shire horses to take him and Petunia on a trot around Richmond Park in an open carriage in the snow, with everyone looking at them. Petty kept going on about how much it cost him.”

James hummed. “Odd,” he said, frowning, thinking hard. The four-legged beast in him was trying to imagine why anyone would want to spend an evening staring at a captive animal’s rear end. He shook his head. “Nah, a tandem broom ride makes a much better date.”

“You mean, like you promised my dad?” Lily smirked, leaning hard into his chest.

James grimaced even as his arms closed around her. “Now that I think of it, old Mitch is not really my type. Maybe you should be the one to float him around a deserted football field, or something. Frankly, he seemed a little shocked that you’ve been able to fly on a broom all this time and he’s never seen you do it.”

“How could I show off flying for him without owning my own broom?” she said.

James was so taken aback he nearly toppled out of the carriage. “No broom of your own -- you’ve got -- no broom?”

She caught him by his cloak and pulled him close again. “When would I need one? We can borrow the school ones when we’re here, and I can’t very well go speeding around Cokeworth on one, can I? Plus, they’re expensive. My school supplies are already enough of a strain on Mum and Dad.”

James looked at his wristwatch. “Your birthday is in twelve days and I am getting you a broom. The fastest, most comfortable one I can find. I'll need to know how tall you are to get the best fit. About halfway up my neck -- what's that in centimetres?”

“Never mind that,” she said. “I don’t need a broom, much less a fancy one. It’d be wasted on me.”

James was sputtering, disbelieving. “Wasted? Haven’t you always wanted one? It’s not like you’re a bad flyer.”

She sat back. “How would you even know? Every time we had a flying lesson in school, you were off darting about, showing off, not paying attention to anyone who wasn’t throwing a quaffle.”

James pounced, one finger pointed in her face. “A-ha, so you did notice. You were watching me, just as I was watching you.”

She swatted his finger away from her face, folding her arms. “It was impossible not to notice you, hooting and trick flying and generally making a nuisance of yourself all over the pitch. But don’t you act like you noticed me through all that bravado.”

He was having none of her sitting apart from him, and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his space. As he did, their carriage rolled over a rock sunk into the road, bouncing her partly into his lap. Her breath caught in her throat as James held her there, nuzzling her ear as he spoke, “Oh course I noticed you. All of that idiot young teenaged bravado was crafted especially to attract your attention.”

A shiver ran down her neck and along both of her arms but she managed to roll her eyes. “Really, Potter? All for me? Then how do you know a tandem broom ride is a good date? You took that Beauxbatons Suzette flying, didn't you?"

“You noticed that too? Good,” he said. “Though I would have rather taken you, of course -- "

She scoffed. "Stars, you're awful -- ”

“Forget brooms,” James said, lifting each of her wrists to arrange them around his neck. “Instead of a broom, I can get you something smaller for your birthday. Something to wear on your finger.”

“Don’t you dare propose to me during a school errand,” she warned, grinning.

“I’m not,” he said, suddenly serious and quiet. “But we will have to talk about it eventually, Lily. There isn’t much time left before Dumbledore either sends me home or you and me, we get -- “

The carriage lurched again, pulling sharply sideways in Lily’s direction. She released James and spun around to see someone walking alongside them in the dim evening, one hand closed over the edge of the carriage. The figure was managing to keep pace with the thestrals pulling them along, moving with a gait so quick and smooth he seemed to be floating. Perhaps he was.

It was difficult to get a proper sense of him, hidden as he was in a heavy winter cloak, fine black brocade trimmed with leather, its hood arranged so his face was completely shadowed. All they saw of the person’s flesh was a single hand, bare in spite of the cold, grasping the side of the carriage, the flesh white and threaded with tiny purple veins. 

Lily edged closer to James, spreading her back across his front as if to shield him from the hand. But her voice kept its confident Head Girl tone. “Can we help you, sir?”

A voice sounded from within the hood, high but rich, like a well-trained tenor, yet somehow not at all pleasant. “Off to meet the school train in Hogsmeade?”

“That’s right,” James answered, his wand in his hand as he gripped Lily’s sleeves, unaware she meant to be shielding him. He was ready to pull her out of the way if things got rough. For the moment, all he did was crane his neck to see a face inside the cloak. “Classes start tomorrow,” he went on, “and we’re seeing that everyone gets safely in.”

“Yes,” the figure said, hissing slightly at the end of the word. “Student safety is so important. Accidents are always at the ready. Strange that you’re here without the train. When I was Head Boy, we were expected to ride on the train with the rest.”

Somehow, every word the stranger spoke sounded something like a threat. Lily spoke up again. “You seem to know us, sir, but we don’t know you. May I ask your name?” 

“I do know you, and I am an admirer of yours,” the voice continued to menace. “Yes, you, James Potter, the map-maker. And even you, Muggle-born Lily Evans, the seer.”

Lily felt as if her blood sank to her feet as, all at once, she knew exactly who this was walking, gliding unnaturally quickly at their side as they rode in the carriage. On the road to Hogsmeade, with the train station in sight, they were in the presence of Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the Death Eaters’ Dark Lord.

He was laughing at their stunned silence. “Yes, your friends have brought me word of your talents, and of your reluctance to put them to good use -- ”

“Then those were not our friends,” James interrupted.

“Oh, but they were,” he answered. “They were most concerned for your future health, your safety, and your longevity. Especially the one bringing tales of Miss Evans’s gifts. He was quite concerned the rising new regime might prove -- difficult for her.” His words trailed into a hollow, mirthless chuckle. “I go one better. It is not only your destiny that concerns me, but also that of your child.”

James tugged hard on Lily’s cloak, forcing her behind him on the carriage seat. 

Riddle laughed again. “Ah, protective. You haven't got the child the stars promised me started already, have you? We aren’t in its presence even now, are we? You do seem awfully close."

"Be on your way at once," Lily called, leaning past James again. 

"There now," the visitor said. "I see you do know me. Let us talk about your future as members of our movement, its inner circle, like my own family.”

“No thank you." James said it with all the force he could short of shouting.

“I have not come to beg you,” Riddle snapped, all traces of his laughter gone. “I have come to give mercy, not to ask it. I have come to call you into my service with an invitation you cannot defy, an invitation of my own making.”

“We do defy it,” James said.

The profile of the cloaked head turned toward them, and slowly, as if in a nightmare, Tom Riddle’s face appeared. Like the hand, its skin was deadly white, small red veins laced all over its surface. Something about the structure of the skull suggested that he had once been very handsome, but the edges of his features were wearing away, smoothing out, becoming snakelike. As he spoke, he bared his teeth. “To defy me is to suffer.”

His second hand appeared, the one not holding onto the carriage but brandishing a long, thin wand. If Lily didn’t know better, she would have thought was made not of wood, but of bone. He raised it, as if to curse them where they sat penned in the carriage. James lashed out with his own wand, not at Riddle, but at the deceptively empty space in front of the carriage, where the thestrals had been walking lazily along.

At the crack of red light flaring at their haunches from James's wand, the thestrals reared up, whinnying and stamping before galloping up and into the sky. Riddle had assumed James and Lily wouldn’t have known the beasts were there. James’s use of them took him by surprise, and he struggled to keep his hold on the carriage, snarling and flailing as the team of thestrals rampaged out of control. 

Along with the carriage, the three of them rose up into the darkening sky over the station. From above, the train was visible in the near distance, steaming along the track, losing speed as it approached the end of its line.

Riddle’s entire arm was clamped around the edge of the carriage now. Lily and James clung to the seat and each other, trying to stay inside as the thestrals thrashed the carriage from side to side. Riddle’s wand was in his free hand, jerking and wheeling with the erratic motion. If he wanted to curse them, he would have to do it without aiming his wand.

The train was directly below them now, and the sky was filling with other figures, coming on brooms to meet it. These were professors from the school. Riddle saw them approaching and gnashed his teeth. 

“Upon my throat, James Potter, Lily Evans,” he swore, “should you defy me a third time, you will indeed suffer, and you will die.” With these words, Riddle let go of the carriage and flew away in a plume of hissing black smoke.

He was gone, but James and Lily were still in an out of control carriage tilting through the air, pulled by a team of thestrals who were more spooked than ever thanks to the blast of black smoke. 

James clutched Lily on the floor of the carriage, the air noisy with rushing wind, the train whistle, and braying animals. The thestrals couldn’t be seen, but they could see. And just as he could hear them, the thestrals could hear James. An idea struck him, a bit of magic he’d never tried before. It was all he had. He got his feet underneath himself.

“Don’t,” Lily called to him. “There are teachers coming. We just need to hold on.”

He shook his head. “We could be tossed out before they even notice us. I’m going to try something.”

Keeping low, he moved to conjure a Patronus, his stag. In this state of fear, he wasn't sure he could do it, not until he took Lily by the hand. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hand and then called the incantation. The stag appeared, not as a blinding white force, but as a message bearer. It hovered before him, waiting for him to speak. Instead of using English, James nodded, bobbing his head, shaking it, making noises that were more grunts than words. Prongs could speak to animals, so perhaps, in an emergency, human James could manage to as well. 

Lily was careful not to interrupt, holding James's hand and watching as the silver stag floated to the head of the carriage to deliver James’s message to the unseeable thestrals. 

It hadn’t quite reached them when Lily squeezed James's hand and sent out her own Patronus, the doe. The stag circled in front of the thestrals tossing its head, delivering the message while the doe pranced from one side to the other, more like a sheepdog than a deer, slowing them down and keeping them from veering off into a new direction before they understood that they were safe now, and should return to the ground.

James watched breathlessly as the Patronuses disappeared. The carriage were slowly losing altitude, coming back to rest on the road along the railway. The train was pulling in as they came to a stop. 

“You spoke to them,” Lily said, falling against James as the carriage landed. 

“Yeah,” James panted, slouching against the wall, exhausted. “I wasn’t sure it would work. Might not have without your help, you darling soulmate.” He stamped a dry kiss on the top of her head.

She held him, rocking against him as she sat at his side. “What was that monster saying, about himself and some child of ours?"

"No idea," James said, clasping her in his arms. "Still, I feel like it was the worst thing I’ve ever heard anyone say."

She nestled her face into the curve of his neck. "There's something they're not telling us about what might happen if we -- if we don’t split up. Your dad calls his grandchild a chosen one but that ghoul makes it sound like a child is part of his plan. I don't get it."

James hummed. “Maybe he’s trying to scare us off ever having a child.”

“It’s a better plan than trying to convince us to turn a baby over to him. Did you see him? Did you hear his voice?” She shuddered. “As long as I live, he’ll never touch a child of mine. Never.”

Not far from where they sat collapsed in their carriage, the train vented its steam a final time. There was a clunk and shuffle as all of the doors slid open, students tumbling out onto the platform.

Lily was scrambling to get up. "Come on. We’ve got go. It wouldn’t do for the students to see us lying in a heap breathing heavy.”

“Right,” James said. “There’s a duty to be done.”

They were out of the carriage and standing on the platform, checking lists and giving orders. Everyone seemed to be smirking at them, but no one said much to them until Marlene McKinnon disembarked. 

“James and Lily, you sly things,” she said, rushing over. “I was going to ask if it was true, what the Pettigrew girls have been telling everyone about the pair of you being a couple now, but look at the state of you. You must have done some championship snogging to get yourselves that rumpled just waiting for a train -- “

Lily gripped Marlene by the elbow and pulled her into a whisper. Marlene fussed with Lily’s hair as she listened. “Yes, we are together, but no, that’s not what got us into such a state.”

Her voice had a grave, knowing tone Marlene recognized from other conversations she'd been having lately. Her hands fell away from Lily’s hair. “What happened?” she asked in a tense monotone. “It was them, wasn’t it?”

“Not only them,” Lily said. “It was him.”

Marlene’s face blanched. “Him? He was here?”

“Yes,” James said. “We saw his face. If the train and the teachers hadn’t turned up when they did, and if we hadn’t been together -- who knows what might have happened.”

Lily couldn’t help herself. “It’s not just luck we survived. James was brilliant -- “ 

“What did he want?” Marlene pressed.

Lily shrugged. “Service, our loyalty. He was recruiting us.”

Marlene was frowning. “So he risked coming here? To recruit students? It’s so brazen, so unlike their usual skulking, cowardly ways.”

“Tell your order about it,” James said. “Dumbledore told us you’re involved -- “

Marlene raised her hands to cover her ears. “We can’t talk about this here,” she said. “But yes, I will pass it on.”

\-------------------------------------

James and Lily were the talk of the school. Dumbledore called them to his office to hear about their encounter with Tom Riddle, and to shake his head with a vague but quiet sadness when they pressed him with questions about chosen one babies. This was what they actually talked about, but most of the school assumed they were sent to the headmaster to be reprimanded for snogging at the station before the train arrived.

It was a rumour that would just have to be allowed to run its course. Dumbledore agreed to speak to the students to denonce blood purity and to warn them about being drawn into dangerous political movements they couldn’t understand, but he would not alarm everyone by announcing that Tom Riddle himself had been so close so recently.

Classes began again the next day, and the last of the shine of Christmas holidays dulled with cold, white January. It was in this rather glum mood that the lads made their way to the edge of the forest, where Professor Grubbly-Plank was holding the Care of Magical Creatures class. 

Lily was off in Divination so James was missing her, and taking the chance to bemoan all the rumours about their “inappropriate” behaviour for a pair of student leaders. 

“She’s so embarrassed by it, Lily’s hardly spoken to me all day,” he said. “And we didn’t even do anything, nothing but protect ourselves.”

“Hush, James,” Remus said, glancing over his shoulder to where Sirius’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange’s sister, that Narcissa Black, was picking her way through the snow behind them. “No one’s supposed to know what you were actually doing before the train came.”

“It’s odd that old Dumbledore is being so gutless about it,” Sirius said, one fist closed around the tail of Remus’s cloak, making him tow him along through the snow. 

“Not so much,” Peter said. “Dumbledore loves his secrets.”

“Will you all please stop talking about it,” Remus said. “We have to trust him and follow his lead.”

James noticed Remus glancing over his shoulder at Narcissa, the girl with a family full of Death Eaters, the girl wearing the promise ring of a Death Eater who’d graduated a few years ago, the girl who usually walked to class with Severus Snape. Something like a growl escaped James at the sight of Narcissa walking alone today. “And what’s worse is they let Snape transfer to Divination in the middle of the year. He’s there with Lily right now.”

“At least we get a break from his ugly mug for one more class a day,” Sirius said. “And it’s not like Evans is going to fall in love with him over a crystal ball. Can you imagine if she suddenly started producing nothing but bats as Patronuses? No, it’s unthinkable.”

James smirked. “Bats,” he said, almost giggling over it.

“Nothing like the smug rush of a relationship stamped with a soulmate guarantee,” Peter added.

Remus made an exasperated, choking sound. “All of you must really and truly shut it,” he said as they came to a halt in the ring of students gathered around Professor Grubbly-Plank. 

She stood over a long table stocked with boxes set at intervals. Each box was large enough to store a hat in, and every moment or so, they would jerk, as if gathering strength to jump off the table and disappear into the forest.

“My apologies,” she was saying. “This year’s early cold snap drove most of the country’s Hodags into stasis before we could secure a supply of them, so you will have to double up for today’s lesson.”

“Not Hodags again,” Sirius groaned. The last time they had trifled with these little dragon-like frogs, half the class ended up inhaling enough of the powder that sloughed off Hodag horns to not be able to sleep for a week.

“Yes, after last term’s poor showing, we are redoing Hodag care. Mind your masks, this time,” Grubbly-Plank ordered. “Keep those noses and mouths covered. Now pair up.”

“There goes Pete,” Sirius smirked as Peter left without a word to team up with Alice Fortescue. For Peter, the best thing about Care of Magical Creatures class was that Frank Longbottom didn’t take it but Alice did. Now that both of them had got over their mutual shyness, Frank and Alice had been inseparable all year. But Peter still hadn’t given up hope of them splitting up. Just in case they did, he made himself available to Alice whenever he could.

Remus shook his head as Peter popped up at Alice’s side, blushing and beaming, telling her how smashing she’d been at the dueling club before Christmas though she hardly remembered now. 

Sirius watched them over Remus’s shoulder. “Sad,” he said. “Longbottom’s the perfect match for that girl. If James and Lily are good enough to be soulmates, then Frank and Alice are for sure. Pete has got to let that go.”

“Nah, it could pay off yet,” James said.

Sirius scoffed. “Your relationship trajectory with Evans isn’t normal. You know that, don’t you?” he said. “You shouldn’t be encouraging him.”

“It’s not like I’m -- “

“Excuse me, gents.”

The lads startled at the sound of a smooth, almost drawling woman’s voice speaking to them. It was Narcissa Black, standing at Remus’s elbow saying, “The four of us are the only ones left without partners. So do tell me how you’d rather we divide yourselves up.”

It took a moment for them to understand. Before Snape transferred to Divination, the class had an odd number of students, so the three of them always worked as a trio. Now the numbers were even, and someone would have to work with Snape’s abandoned partner, Narcissa.

It wouldn’t be Sirius, her estranged cousin. He spun on his heel, his back to her as he stared at nothing between the forest’s trees. James could do it pleasantly enough, but he was having a hard time not babbling about Dumbledore and soulmates and all sorts of other things it wouldn’t do for a Death Eater sympathizer like Narcissa Black to hear, so Remus volunteered himself.

A small smile curved sideways across her sharp, white, but pretty face as he offered. “Well then, Lupin,” she said, speaking his name in a low voice, as if to say it too loudly would be to reveal too much, “let’s be off then.”

With raised eyebrows, James watched them walk to the last remaining unattended box. 

Sirius spun back around to huff at the sight of Remus following Narcissa, absently fingering the scar on his face as he went. "I thought for sure she would have insisted on you, James, what with all the stories about Remus being…corrupted."

James laughed it off. "You jealous, Padfoot?"

Sirius punched at him and nearly upset their quivering Hodag box.

"Now, remember," Grubbly-Plank said, “even in your mask, you must take great care. Gloves on, one partner restrains the Hodag, the other files the powder from the horns. Collect every grain of it in a vial. Like so.”

There was a great deal of grumbling as the partnerships donned their protective gear and got into position.

“Right,” Grubbly-Plank resumed. “Restraining partner, grasp your Hodag by its back legs and by the scruff below its neck spines. Carefully now…”

Without negotiating who would do what, Remus grabbed and restrained their creature. Narcissa lifted the file as if it was the stem of a wine glass, twirling it daintily between her fingers as she regarded Remus struggling to hold the Hodag still.

“If you don't mind,” he said. “The sooner you can manage it the better.”

Narcissa stepped closer. The Hodag must have had its horns filed before and knew to thrash its head, driving its neck spines against Remus’s gloves.

His manner of gentle coaxing was gone. “For stars’ sake, get in here, Black, before this beast shreds my hand away.”

In a rush, she crowded into him, tall enough for her hair to be in his face, tickling his nose. Her smell came with it, perfumed with the flowers she was named for. Everything about her made Remus want to shout out a sneeze. He drew in a deep breath and blew out a puff of air to clear her hair from his face.

She flinched. “What are you doing back there, Lupin?"

"Maintaining a respectable distance," he said. "One that wouldn't disgust your husband."

Narcissa clucked her tongue. "Lucius Malfoy is not my husband."

"Good as," he said.

"Come, Lupin," she said, "I expected for you to have a better understanding of the Black family temperament than that. We're not so easy to predict or control. Not even with arranged marriages. Hasn’t Sirius told you about my sister Andromeda who abandoned us to marry someone with a more interesting background than my parents preferred?”

Actually, he hadn’t, knowing Remus wouldn’t have cared. “You haven’t even started filing yet, have you?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes of course I have," she said. "Doff your mask and take a deep breath if you don't believe it. You won’t sleep the rest of the week."

As she worked, they stood without talking, her back tilted against his arm as they hovered over the poor struggling creature. Remus turned his face as far away from her as he could.

"This one has been mistreated, I think," she said. "They're not supposed to mind this so much. They usually tolerate it as you or I would a fingernail trim. I mean,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I assume nail care is the same for you as it would be for the rest of us.”

Remus’s cheeks flamed red, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. He did look over at where James and Sirius were working. Sirius returned the look, his lip curled. Of course Narcissa had wanted to work with Remus. Why settle for simply spying on them when she could peeve her cousin at the same time by encroaching on his best friend. It was nothing Sirius could reasonably complain about, just enough fake smiling and real touching to irk him.

“Look at the poor thing," she said, drawing Remus’s attention back to the Hodag.

Remus peered over her shoulder. "Is it injured?" he asked.

She shook her head, fine, fragrant platinum hair wafting into Remus's face again. "Not anymore. But it once was. See here, this horn was ground down to the quick at one time. It's healed now but it would have bled and hurt. There now, we’ve finished. Let the creature go.”

He yanked his gloved hands away as Narcissa closed the box. She was calling Grubbly-Plank over to explain the animal’s trauma, insisting it not be used for student training anymore. When she had finished and Grubbly-Plank was walking away with the boxed Hodag they’d rescued, Narcissa turned her face up to Remus, smiling as if she expected to be applauded.

“You see, Lupin,” she said. “I have rather an affinity for magical creatures. I’m veritably dripping with compassion for them.”

He scoffed. “As long as they keep to pure bloodlines. Isn’t that what you mean to say?”

She laughed. “Oh no. Blood purity is just an ideological smokescreen for old fashioned classism. Or didn’t you know? If anyone was serious about it, there would be no room for the Black family in the movement. Our genealogy is clear of Muggles, for the most part, but things get murky where magical creatures are concerned. Why, eight great-grandmothers back on my mother’s line, there’s a Veela. Not many traces of it left in my generation, though some people claim they can tell. Can you believe it, Lupin?”

As she said it, she pulled one of her long, gleaming hairs from the shoulder of Remus’s shabby winter cloak. She held it over the snow and let it fall, white on white, disappearing.


	11. Eleven

By midnight, it was clear that in spite of their masks and the fact that they had worked outside in the fresh air, everyone in seventh year Care of Magical Creatures had inhaled too much Hodag horn powder to sleep that night. Professor Grubbly-Plank was immune to it by now, and before she went to bed, she called on the Head Boy and Girl to gather all the affected students into the prefects’ lounge and keep them there, where they wouldn’t disturb anyone until they either fell asleep or breakfast began, whichever came first.

It was 1am and Lily was yawning hard by the time they knocked at the last house, the entrance to Slytherin which was disguised as a blank wall in the dungeons.

“You can go to bed, Evans,” James said. “It’s not like you were exposed to Hodag powder today.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” she said through the last of the yawn.

“Get rid of you?” James raved. “Definitely not. I’ve hardly seen you since our nine hundred children came back from holidays.”

Lily laughed. “I’ll come to the lounge and sit awhile once we get Narcissa. But just so you can see me. Not so we can -- you know. If we do that, they’ll be on about inappropriate behaviour for student leaders again.”

James frowned but accepted that seeing her without a public display of affection was better than her disappearing into her dormitory for the rest of his long, wakeful night. 

The door to Slytherin was still unopened. “Maybe we should just leave her here. She's the only Slytherin in class so it’s not like she’ll be up causing a racket in there by herself,” James said.

As he said it, the stone wall grated and shifted and Narcissa Black was standing in the doorway, dressed like an old-fashioned glamorous Muggle film star in a gauzy, billowing fur trimmed dressing gown. 

“Oh, you’ve already gone to bed -- “ James began.

“I have not,” Narcissa snapped. “It’s the Hodags, isn’t it? Is everyone else awake too?”

Lily tried to answer but ended up yawning again.

“Everyone from class, yes,” James said for her. “They’ve sent us to the prefects’ lounge to wait it out, but you seem comfortable here so -- “

“So I will join the rest of you, of course,” Narcissa finished. She sniffed as she looked Lily over from head to toe. “There’s no need for the pair of you to wait for me. I’ll be along after I get changed.”

The door closed and James took Lily’s hand, dragging her toward the stairwell out of the dungeon. At the bottom of the stairs she sighed heavily, as if the climb would be too much. 

“You want me to carry you?” he said.

She shook her head. “No -- inappropriate. Remember?”

“Who’s going to say that here?” James asked, waving his arm along the empty corridor. “No one’s awake at this hour but the seventh year Magical Creatures class, all of whom are technically adult wizards and witches, not giggling kids.”

“Fine, James,” she said. “But just up the stairs. I’ll walk on my own when we get to the entrance hall.”

She stepped onto the first stair, a better height from which to get onto James’s back. With her arms around his neck she slumped against him and lifted her legs, one at a time, into his waiting hands. She was still dressed in her uniform, and neither of them was quite prepared for the jolt between them as his hands held her by the tender bare skin behind her knees. Lily gave a breathy gasp and James gave her a light toss, bracing her higher against himself. She let her breath out with the movement, settling in, humming against the nape of his neck.

James forced a cough. “Right. Up we go.”

He took the stairs slowly, opting for keeping her comfortable over showing off by taking them at a run. “No, the only one spying on us tonight is Narcissa herself,” he said. “She partnered up with Remus in class, which couldn't be avoided now that Snape’s followed you to Divination class. But there's no need for her to be needling poor Remus about -- his condition, not to mention her trying to goad Sirius into a family row.”

Lily answered with another hum, her lips grazing his neck. “Is she a Death Eater?”

“Good as,” James said. “Since the beginning of the year, she's been engaged to that nasty Malfoy, hasn't she?"

“I remember when he went here,” she murmured. “Lucius Malfoy, he was good to Severus.”

James shuddered, as if remembering something unpleasant. “Wasn’t he just.”

They had finished climbing the stairs but James didn’t mention it, and Lily was too sleepy to notice. It wasn't until they were at the door of the prefects’ lounge that he turned his face toward hers, nudging her cheek with his nose. “Lily,” he said. “Lily, love, if you don’t want them to see me carrying you…”

As he stood jostling her gently, trying to wake her, Remus opened the door, clear-eyed and wakeful with Hodag powder. He laughed at the sight of Lily, the sleepy seer. “Let her go to bed, James.”

“I told her to. She's the one who insisted on coming back here with me.”

She was awake now. “Oh, we’re here.”

James set her feet on the ground, and Remus shook his head, holding the door as they came inside. He was about to close it when in the distance, at the end of the corridor, a ghostly pale, willowy figure appeared -- Narcissa Black. 

Hang it, why did James have to go down to Slytherin for her?

He didn’t wait, but let the door close just as he could discern the features on her face.

Inside, the room was still a rowdy mess. It was due partly to the Hodag powder and partly to the fact that most of the students who stayed in Care of Magical Creatures until seventh year were from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff houses. There was spirited, noisy chatter, intermittent singing, at least two quaffles being thrown across the room at any time, and the lads playing a game of terribly unskilled wizards’ chess where someone’s pieces were getting smashed to bits every turn while the players groaned and cheered.

James shooed a game of catch off a sofa and led Lily to lie down on it. “Sit with me while I sleep,” she said, snagging his hand as he turned to leave her in peace, heading to where the lads sat teaching Alice Fortescue to play chess. 

“It’s alright,” Lily cajoled him, pulling him to sit on the edge of the sofa beside her. “Just sit. I’m too tired to have one of THOSE dreams. I promise I won’t jump you this time.”

“Lily, hush,” he laughed at her, softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Someone’s going to hear you confessing all our secrets -- “

“Sit with me, James.”

“I am. Make room.“

“You don’t need room,” she said, sitting up slightly, pushing him against the back of the sofa and settling her head on his thigh like a pillow. “There.”

James was frantically pulling his jumper over his head, folding it into a better, less provocative pillow for her face in his lap. “You are the bossiest, handsy-est sleeper I have ever known,” he said, letting his own hand rest on her side as she quieted and went back to sleep.

Sirius looked up from where he and Remus were pulverizing Alice and Peter on the chessboard. “So you’re stuck sitting over there, are you James?”

Remus looked up as well. “I’ll fetch you a book, shall I? Good time to get caught up on some potions theory?”

“Thanks, lads. But there’s lots to keep me busy here.” And with that, James began to fashion little braids into Lily’s hair.

“Pete, honestly,” Sirius said, turning back to the game. “Poor Alice couldn’t have a worse teacher. Look at that -- Remus, do you want to do the honours or shall I?”

Remus slapped Sirius hard on the back. “You deserve it, mate. Let them have it.”

Sirius moved a rook. “Checkmate.”

“No,” Peter and Alice said together. It may have been the loudest any of them had ever heard her speak.

“Oh, Peter, we’ve lost, and in spectacular form,” she said, briefly dropping a hand on his arm. His face flushed red and he began to stammer.

Remus rushed in to save him. “Seems your formidable real life dueling skills don’t quite transfer into chess play, eh Alice? At least, not yet.”

“No, I’ll have to get Frank to learn to play first if I want to be any good. I was never much of a duelist until I partnered with him either,” she said.

“Really?” Sirius squinted, as if scanning his memory for some trace of what Alice was like before Frank. Strangely to him, but not strange for any small, mousy girl who’s ever got a boyfriend, Sirius couldn’t remember anything about Alice before Frank, and then Peter paid attention to her.

At the mention of Frank, Peter’s rosy flush was cooling into a sick green. Remus opened his mouth to save him again, but Sirius had already rushed into the gap.

“So you and Frank,” he said to Alice, “after graduation, are the pair of you going off to put that team dueling finesse to good use at Auror training, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, we’ve certainly applied to the program. Time will tell,” she said, though it was all modesty. She and Frank were unbeatable at dueling, and even if they weren’t, Frank’s mother had influence everywhere. 

“Quite the love story, these two,” Marlene McKinnon said, squeezing herself into the extremely small space between Sirius and Remus. 

“What, us?” Sirius said, waving over her head at Remus.

“No, you thick git,” she said. “Alice and Frank. Tell them about those tea leaves, Alice. The ones the lady at that lovely tea shop in Islington read for you over Christmas. It was so romantic -- ”

Alice was on her feet. “Actually, I think I’ll head back to the tower, to bed. I’m rather tired now. I think the Hodag powder is wearing off.”

“I can’t be,” Marlene argued. “Look at everyone else. They’re all -- “

Her words were cut off by a mighty yawn from Peter. “No, I think Alice is right. She had the same Hodag as me and I’m knackered too. Must not have been a very strong creature we had.”

Alice beamed at him, grateful for an excuse not to stay and discuss her last tea leaf reading, the one about Frank, and their souls, and their future.

As for Peter, his colour was returning to red again. And just as he was about to follow Alice out the door, he flung one parting rude gesture at Sirius before blowing him a kiss.

Marlene snorted behind her hand. “Poor Peter. I don’t know how much plainer we can make it that Alice is taken. Locked up for life with dear old Frank Longbottom, her soulmate.”

Sirius cringed. "They're not, are they? Is there some kind of epidemic?"

Remus jabbed at him behind Marlene’s back.

Marlene shrugged. "It was in their tea leaves. But who knows, really. Tasseography isn’t a hard magic."

Sirius dismissed the subject by faking a sad sigh. "Did you see Pete as he left? Looks like that was the only kiss I’ll be getting tonight. Kissed off by Peter Pettigrew.”

Marlene groaned as if exasperated, pushing herself back onto her feet. “Shut up, Black. And meet me behind that sofa in one minute.”

Sirius passed his minute snickering to himself about his coming date behind the sofa and helping Remus restore the chess set to working order. 

“Marlene’s just as reckless as you are,” Remus said as he stood the last black pawn on its square. “I worry about her.”

“Her? Shouldn’t you be worried about me?”

“Who says I’m not,” Remus answered. “And I don’t just mean your noncommittal snogging escapades. I mean -- everything. If she’s already part of -- the you-know-what, then she’s a walking target for the you-know-whos.”

“Speaking of which,” Sirius shuddered. “Here’s my beloved coz. I’ll be off then.”

Remus looked up to see Narcissa taking a seat on the opposite end of the refreshed chess board. He lunged at the fleeing Sirius. “Rus -- don’t -- “ But Sirius was gone.

Narcissa gathered her shining hair in her hands and tossed it down her back. “Well, here’s something I haven’t touched since I was a child. Wizards’ chess. I wonder if I still remember how to play.”

“I’m sure you do,” Remus said, rising onto his knees, as if to stand.

“Please, Lupin,” she said, her long, thin fingers closed on his sleeve of his jumper. “Do me the honour of slaughtering me in a chess match. I’m certain it will be easy for you, and won’t take too much of your time.”

He glanced around the room for an excuse to leave the chess board. All of his mates were busy with girls. Quaffles were no longer flying around. No one but Lily Evans was asleep yet, but things were beginning to quiet down. He sank to sitting. What could Narcissa learn over a game of chess that might help the Death Eatersover anyway? “Fine. You’re white. You lead out.”

Without the slightest pause, Narcissa lifted a knight. “I remember these ones. They move in that funny L-shape and can vault over the rest.” She kept the piece in her hand, not yet choosing which of the two possible squares on which to land it. “They’re the best pieces, part human, part beast.”

Remus let out his breath. “I’ll find you another opponent.”

“You will not,” she said in a cool, even voice, setting her knight down in front of her row of pawns. “You’ve nothing more to lose in speaking to me. I already know what you are. I’ve seen the register, the one your parents were forced to sign your name to after your -- accident.”

Remus ran both of his hands through his hair. “Look, you can tell them my answer is the same as James’s and Lily’s and Sirius’s. It’s no. I won’t join them. And I'm sure there's no shortage of volunteers for them among my kind. I can't imagine why they'd trouble themselves to seek me out as -- "

“Lupin, look at me," she said. She sat up straight, pushing her fitted black sleeves to her elbows, first the right and then, the left. The flesh of the inner sides of her arms was white, unblemished by anything. Skin like that gets called ivory, alabaster, but it made Remus think of neither of these. It didn't look hard, brittle. Even from where he sat, he could tell it was soft, warm. Inside his mouth, the end of his tongue edged against the tip of one of his canine teeth. In revealing her arms, she was showing him she hadn't taken the Death Eaters’ mark. It was an attempt at showing that she might be neutral. It was not intended as seduction.

It was not…

Even if it was, he’d decided years ago he’d never touch anyone sensually. No one but Sirius and only when he was safely transfigured into Padfoot and Remus was in his human form. It would be an exchange of warmth, scratches and petting, sleep. Yes, everyone assumed he was comforting poor homeless Sirius when they sat together like that. Maybe it was mutually beneficial, but it was the only physical love Remus could trust himself to take from anyone else. A love his inner monster would never lash out at in savage hunger or simply out of unguarded carelessness.

“I have no idea what they would want from you. It has nothing to do with me,” Narcissa said, drawing his gaze back to her face. “But I need to ask something of you myself.”

Without a word, Remus moved a black pawn, opening the path before his left bishop. 

Narcissa’s second knight hopped into play. “My Veela ancestry -- my mother says it's diluted to nothing, and it's sick of me to keep mentioning it, like I’m trying to bring it on just by wishing it. But it’s not a wish. It’s real magic. I feel Veela in me. Strongly, to the point where I wonder if I'm going mad.”

“Maybe you are,” Remus said, his tone flat as he inched the pawn forward, into the path of Narcissa’s knight.

“Maybe I am,” she agreed, taking the pawn without pausing. “I need to know for certain. Is there any trace of a Veela left in me. And if there is,” she paused to take a huge breath, watching her knight striking the pawn to rubble. “If it is there, I need to reconsider my betrothal to Lucius.”

Remus scoffed. Moving another pawn out to threaten Narcissa’s knight. The chess game was another bloodbath, both of them rushing through it killing and being killed.

“There are several possibilities,” she went on. “One, I'm not a Veela and so Lucius is right not to sense it in me, and I should set my feelings aside and stay with him. Two, I am a Veela but it's lost on Lucius, wasted, and I should leave him.”

“Or three,” Remus said, “you should get over yourself and trust that bloody Malfoy accepts you for whatever you are and set up housekeeping like a good Black family girl.”

She laughed as his bishop moved nose to nose with her second knight. “Whatever the options are, my being a Veela needs to be ruled out or in. And that is where I come to you.”

She hadn’t moved her knight. He ought to take it with his bishop but it felt like a trap. He hesitated, saying nothing, finding it difficult to think through the consequences of the carnage on the board.

“I’ve never had a wizard, no matter what his blood status, show any response when I -- when I call forth my inner Veela. Stars, I sound ridiculous,” she said, sitting back from the chess board and hiding her face in her hands. “But you’re not like exactly a typical wizard, are you Lupin. You’re partly a magical creature, one that looks human most of the time, like a Veela, only -- “

“A cursed creature,” Lupin said. “And yes, this is ridiculous. Utterly.”

“Remus,” she said, scooting around the board to sit next to him, her hand on his sleeve again. “I want to know if your creature status allows you can sense the same thing in me -- “

“It doesn’t,” he said, speaking much louder than her, straining as if to get away.

“I don’t mean now, or here,” she said, glancing around the room. “There’s magic to -- to what I do. It’s something only done in private -- “

“Absolutely not -- “

“I don’t mean it -- like that,” she said. “I won’t compromise you. Just let me show you.”

“Go show a mermaid, or a centaur, or any number of other partially human magical creatures around here then -- “

“I’m not looking to be drowned or carried off,” she said.

“But savaged by a werewolf is fine with you?” he said, his face close to hers as he hissed his whispered answer.

She lifted her chin, bringing them even closer. “Perhaps it is.”

Remus sat back, clucking his tongue in frustration. “You have no idea, you foolish girl. If you must have a werewolf for your test, find another one. I’m sure your husband knows plenty of us.”

“But you’re right here -- “

“And I said, no.” It was his final word. He stood up and walked to the sofa Sirius was lying behind and leaned over it. “Oi, I’m going up to bed.”

Sirius sat up. “Right, I’ll come with. Marlene’s fallen to sleep anyway. Hey, what do you reckon? Could a good kiss be an antidote for Hodag powder?”

Behind himself, Remus could hear Narcissa Black restoring the broken chess pieces. “I guess we’ll never know.”

\------------------------------

Lily woke up with her face still in James’s jumper, on his lap. She raised her arms over her head, stretching and taking in a deep breath full of his smell from the knitted fibres. There was a buzzing rattle above her head as he snored, his head fallen back against the top of the sofa, his mouth wide open. She sat up, grinning at him as he continued to sleep, rubbing at her cheek where the pattern of the jumper had imprinted onto her face. Her hair felt strange. One side of it was full of tiny plaits. James must have done it himself while she slept. What a mess they both were. She loved it.

His glasses were missing. She trusted he knew where they were and didn’t worry about it. He looked younger without them, innocent, almost helpless with his jaw slack and mouth open. That child of theirs they kept hearing about, if they ever brought him to life, would he look like this too? He’d have to take something from her. Maybe he’d be a ginger, or go up the middle between them and be blond. With a light touch, Lily swept her fingertips over the smooth, taut skin on James’s forehead, just below his hairline.

No, their son’s hair would be dark, like his father’s.

She sat back, startled. It had happened again. The little dark-haired boy, his forehead -- it hadn’t been a daydream. It felt more like prophecy.

She was going to have a son by James Potter. In the prefects’ lounge, with classmates recovering from Hodag powder exposure sleeping heavily all around, Lily knelt on a sofa, looking into James’s face, her heart drumming inside her, scared but happy, racing with love for him and for the “and” in all her prophecies, their boy. She dropped the lightest kiss on his jaw.

Standing up, she drew her wand and used it to gently ease James from sitting to lying on the sofa. He stayed asleep but closed his mouth, swallowing noisily, passing a hand over his face. When he was still, Lily spread his jumper over his torso like a blanket and lay down beside him, on her side so they’d both fit.

James must not have been quite as asleep as she assumed. As soon as she lay down, his arm was around her waist and his closed mouth was pressed against her forehead. He murmured and hummed before he fell quiet again.

She leaned back to see him, taking his face in both her hands, pressing another gentle kiss to his cheek. “I love you.” She mouthed it more than said it, but he heard somehow and opened his eyes, not squinting, as if he saw her perfectly.

“Marry me, Lily.”

She kissed him, her lips soft on his, full of feeling but without an answer.

James was speaking again as she pulled away. “I can’t go home, not without you. Home is you. The rest of my life is you. And even after that. Please, Lily...”

If it had been later in history, not the 1970s when proposals were simple and private, spoken as moved upon by the heart, Lily might have been dissatisfied with this question whispered in a crowded room with no preparation, no ring, both of them disheveled with sleep. As it was, it was perfect.

She kissed him again, longer this time, still soft, but deep enough to sense the ache in James as he waited for a reply. She smoothed his hair as he drew away, a tremor in his breathing, her fingers on his scalp, his question still on his face.

“How could I do anything but marry you?” she said.

James let out a breath like a laugh, his hands on her face, bending to kiss her when Professor Grubbly-Plank threw open the door.

“Alright, you lot,” she bawled into the prefects’ lounge. “You’re excused from morning classes, but you’ve got to sleep the rest of it off in your own dormitories. You can’t stay here. Potter? Where’s Potter, and Evans?”

“Here, Professor.” James said, already on his feet and grinning at something Grubbly-Plank couldn’t figure out. 

“You alright, Potter?”

“Yes, Professor. Excellent.”

“Right,” she said. “Make sure they clear out. I’m off.”


	12. Twelve

James Potter stood in the corridor outside the prefects’ lounge, locked its door, and looked left and right to make sure his classmates were gone. He was alone with Lily Evans, lifting her off the ground, spinning them in a circle, her feet flying out behind her, as he kissed her.

She laughed into his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” he laughed back. “You agreed to marry me. And we can’t tell anyone, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.”

She tangled her fingers in his ridiculous bedhead. “Secretly married at seventeen -- ”

“Eighteen, after next week -- “

She brushed her nose against his. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you, James Potter.”

He kissed her once more, hard enough to make a smacking noise, before setting her feet back on the floor. “I should hope so.”

Even though she was standing on her own again, Lily left her arms looped around his neck. She blinked up at him, remembering her new prophecy, a small, personal one that didn’t produce an orb but meant the world to her all the same. She thought of their son, the one who would look like James. It was terrifying, and marvelous, and too much to mention at the moment. She would save it.

“What about Dumbledore?” she said. “I can’t tell my parents, or Petty. But we have to tell him. He told us so.”

James gave a sharp nod, letting her lead him away, down the corridor to the staircase. “Right. If we go now, we can get him before he leaves for breakfast.”

The meeting with the headmaster was subdued, warm but grave. As he sent them away, he rose and dropped a hand on each of their shoulders. "This," he said, "is truly good news for everyone."

—-—--------------

When James came back to the dormitory where the lads were sleeping off the last of their Hodag powder exposure, He was still grinning, sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling off his socks, going through the motions of going to bed though he was too happy to sleep.

Sirius rolled over to face him, rubbing his eyes in the daylight. “You’re finally back. And you’re unnaturally happy.”

“Not really,” James said. “Most natural thing in the world to be so happy on a morning like this.”

Remus was rolling over as well, his brows drawn into a question. “Like this? Like what? What happened? Is it -- Lily?”

Peter flipped over too. “Lily? Stars, James, you didn’t -- did you?”

Sirius threw a pillow at James’s head, grinning and yelling at the same time. “You -- in the prefects’ lounge? In the same room where the rest of us were sleeping? You got ‘round the spells and you -- in an all but a public place?”

James threw the pillow back. “What are you on about?”

“You and Lily,” Remus called over their rising voices, beginning to question James again but unable to find any words. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I knew this soulmate thing was getting out of hand.”

“I do not agree,” James shouted back at him. 

“Come on, James,” Remus tried again. “Don’t tell us that you took advantage of our Hodag accident to use last night to -- to…”

“To take her innocence?” Peter supplied.

James’s face flushed red. “You all think -- ? No, I did not.”

The lads fell back in their beds, laughing and hooting. “Well, what’s happened then?” Sirius said.

James plucked off his glasses and set them on his bedside table. “I hardly feel like telling you now -- “

“Sorry, James. We’re sorry,” Remus said, barely not laughing. “Now tell us your news.”

“It is Lily, actually,” he began, sitting up. “She says she’ll marry me.”

Peter whistled, no laughter at all. “Wow.”

Sirius growled. “Knew it. Didn’t I say?”

Remus took a deep breath. “I’m sure you had a good reason for asking her when and where you did. I can’t imagine what it would be, but...”

“It had nothing to do with reason,” James said. “I woke up on the sofa, and the light of the sunrise was all golden, and I saw her lying next to me, watching me and whispering sweet things while I slept. I didn’t have my glasses on, but I could see her perfectly. It felt like the best magic ever, and I just -- asked her,” he said, falling back on his pillow.

Remus stretched out one long arm, managing to bridge the gap between their beds to pat James’s elbow. “You’re a lucky man,” he said. “And I know it won’t make a lot of sense to most people, but it’s what Dumbledore wants. It’ll keep you safe. Lily too. It’ll be alright.”

“What about your parents?” Peter asked. “Your parents were weird about your future with Lily, weren’t they?”

James gave a loud sigh. “They said soulmates have to pay for their happiness with other kinds of suffering. They just wanted us to know that. Though Dad was pretty sad about it.”

“At least he’ll get his grandchild,” Sirius said, just shy of sneering.

James didn’t deny it. He did change the subject. “I’m not worried about Mum and Dad. They’re from our world and old enough to be from another time when this sort of thing wasn’t so strange. It’s Lily’s family that’s going to want me flogged for this. Especially her mother. That’s the scariest part.”

Peter huffed. “I thought the scariest part was the Dark Lord coming ‘round.” 

It was his turn to be struck with pillows. “Since when did you start calling Tom Riddle that?” Sirius demanded.

“Call him what? What did I say?” Peter asked.

“Just watch your mouth, alright?” Sirius warned. “He attacked James, chased him right up into the sky. If there was any doubt whether he’s dangerous to us, there isn’t any now.”

“That’s a part of all this,” James said. “The biggest part for Dumbledore. Lily and I are stronger and safer together. I can’t argue with that. I’ve lived through it once already.”

Sirius was sighing now, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above his bed.

“So a wedding -- when will it happen?” Remus resumed.

James pulled the covers up to his chin. “Soon. Before the Valentines Hogsmeade trip, I imagine. Dumbledore doesn’t want us leaving the school grounds again without the protection of a proper bond between us. He’s taken charge of it.”

Peter frowned. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Remus said. “Trust him. Everything will work out for the best.”

Sirius grumbled and turned in his bed. He had no reason to argue, but it still didn’t sound right to him to be so influenced by a teacher -- or anyone else, for that matter. Not that James needed much influencing when it came to getting closer to Lily Evans. He was completely smitten, buying into the soulmate concept completely.

Remus fluffed his pillow. “Yes, and congratulations, mate. If you’re destined to be with this woman, you have my support in starting life with her now.”

“Mine too,” Peter said.

Sirius felt their pressure even with his back turned to them. His voice began as a groan but resolved into words. “Mine as well, I suppose. Stars know you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Remus was satisfied. “Well then,” he said. “Rest up while you can, lads. I’m sure you all know what tonight is.”

James looked to the window. It was daylight, the sky clear and light blue, but he knew the cycles of the moon like the days of the week. Tonight, the moon would be full. Wise, gentle, impeccably reasonable Remus Lupin would become Moony the Werewolf. 

\-----------------------------

For the first time in years, James thought about spending the full moon somewhere other than with Remus. The lads had left for the tunnel to the shack already, but he was lingering at the castle, outside in the chilly twilight, leaning against the wall, Lily Evans standing between his feet, her face turned up, waiting for him to kiss her goodbye.

“No, go on. I don’t want to disrupt them,” she was saying, her hands inside his cloak, smoothing his tie against his chest. “Go on as you always have. At least until the end of the school year.”

He brushed his lips over her eyelid. “How am I going to leave you to spend the full moons with the lads once I’m your husband? Hmm?” He kissed her temple, descending along her jaw, teasing, veering away from her mouth just as she was parting her lips to receive him. “How can I keep running around all night knowing you’re at home in bed alone…”

“That reminds me,” she said, trying to keep her tone calm and even as he kissed her throat. “We need to make sure Dumbledore knows it is not alright for me to simply move into your bunk with the rest of the lads. We need a room for just the two of us.”

“Worst case, we can meet up in the Head Boy/Girl office,” James said. He spoke the words against her collarbone. It should have been playful, but instead she was cross.

“Meet up? Did you say meet up, James Potter?”

He straightened his posture, alarmed. “I just meant that whenever we want to -- “

“I know what you meant,” she said. “I am not marrying you so we can meet up like Sirius and Marlene when they want an itch scratched. I want a home with you, even if it’s secret and tucked away in a school dormitory somewhere. We need a home, in case our little ‘and’ -- in case he comes.”

James had taken her face in his hands. "Yes, you’re right,” he was saying. “I’m sorry. That sounded crass. I want a place for us too. Of course I do.”

Off in the distance, from the bottom of the hill where the enchanted willow grew, a dog barked.

“That’s Padfoot,” James said. “If I’m going to go, it has to be now. Promise you won’t stay mad, Lily.”

She hopped to hold him around the neck. “I’m not mad. Maybe a bit tense. Worried. I know he’s Remus and everything but -- it’s still frightening to think of you with him all night, delectable slab of choice venison that you are.”

James rumbled a laugh against her cheek “Three years of this and he’s never tried to eat me. Remember, he’s not a wolf, he’s a werewolf. He only bites people.”

“You be careful of that too,” she said, finally managing to kiss his mouth before letting him go.

James arrived at the shack with barely enough time to transfigure himself before Remus’s harrowing, involuntary transformation began.

“Hurry,” Sirius said as James came through the passageway. “He’s extra tormented tonight. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. I don’t know. Something’s different, though I can’t think what’s changed for him. Is it because Tom Riddle came to Hogsmeade?”

James frowned. “Maybe. Look at him pacing.” They were spying through a cracked bedroom door at Remus, barefoot, his clothes already removed and folded neatly on an ottoman. He was wrapped in a blanket he would throw off once the transformation was truly underway. All the emotions Remus kept controlled in his human form were amplified at his transformation. They didn’t just rise to the surface. They took over completely.

“He keeps knocking things over, tossing them about,” Peter said, “like he’s looking for something he’s lost.”

“No more time to sort it out,” Sirius said. “He’s about to turn. Keep close, lads. He’s going to run us hard tonight.”

Sirius was right. As soon as Moony had fully emerged, he clawed open the door and bounded into the forest. His frantic searching behaviour continued, sniffing the air, clawing through the forest undergrowth, tearing with his teeth. 

The animagi were close behind at first, but the chase wore on for hours. Moony’s strength and speed, his stamina were positively supernatural. They had tamed him somewhat in the past two years, and he had learned to curb his abilities for their sakes. But they hadn’t gone away. Sometimes they forgot that even as a werewolf, a shred of Remus always endured, somewhere deep, and it held Moony back, keeping him near them. 

But not tonight. He tore away, evading them, working his abilities to their fullest. Late in the night, he still hadn’t found what he had been searching for. Frustrated and sick of their interfering, Moony vaulted over Prongs even as he reared up to block the way. Padfoot sprung after him but Moony had jumped up and into the trees, where Prongs and Padfoot couldn’t follow. Wormtail did his best, scurrying behind, following him up a tree trunk until Moony made the leap from one treetop to another, too far for a rat. 

The animagi scrambled beneath the trees, following the sounds of creaking branches as Moony raced away, over their heads. He gave a howl, elated, as if to announce he’d outrun them. What he chased was something none of them could sense, something he alone knew, and wanted.

Sirius leapt back into human form. “What is he tracking? There’s no trail.”

“I don’t know,” James said, human and stooped over, breathing hard. “It’s got to be something supernatural, out of our range.”

“It’s got to be something good,” Sirius said. “Good to Moony, at any rate. Better than anything. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Peter was climbing out of a tree. “The moon is nearly set. He can’t have more than half an hour left.”

“He’s going to come out of it in the wild,” Sirius said, pulling at his hair. “He’s going to wake up naked and freezing and lost in the woods by himself somewhere.”

James shook his head. “Won’t he know by now to get back to the shack before he changes? We’ve been leading him back there for years, month after month. He’ll know by now, won’t he? It should be second nature to him.”

“He wasn’t making for the direction of the shack last I saw him,” Peter said. “Looked more like he was headed to the lake.”

“The lake,” Sirius repeated, still looking up into the now empty trees. “That will stop him in his tracks. But what if something’s led him away on purpose? What if the supernatural trail is actually a lure. And he’s gone charging into a trap?”

James stood gaping, scared. “Who would know to lure him that way? Whoever did it would have to know he’s -- “

“Registered,” Sirius finished. “Anyone with access to the werewolf registry would know.”

“I say we go back to the shack and wait for him there,” Peter said. “If it’s a trap, it could be meant for all of us, and we won’t be able to help him if we’re caught as well.”

James linked his fingers behind his head. “I hate it,” he said. “But Pete’s right. What else can we do? There’s no sign of him.”

“The lake,” Sirius said. “First we’ll check the lakeshore.”

As the lads fretted in the heart of the forest, Moony had indeed followed the supernatural scent trail to lakeshore. He let himself down from the treetops, the pads of his feet and his supple limbs absorbing the shock and sound of his downward spring.

There she was, close enough for him to see as well as smell her now. He stood behind her where she stood outlined in the light of the full moon, the hoary ice grown over the lakeside plants glittering around her. She was so near the icy water, her feet might have been standing in it. He couldn’t tell and didn’t care. 

Her skin was not just reflecting white light but emanating it, every contour and detail of her plainly visible to him though she hadn’t seen him yet. She wore a dress like a ballet dancer’s, a long, full skirt, tight sleeves to the elbows, and a plunging at the back, bare nearly to her waist in spite of the cold. Her cloak lay set aside in the grass as she peered into the depths of the lake.

There was no need to think, no choice to make. His instinct drove him forward, raising a growl in his throat. At the sound, she turned in time to see him pounce. She couldn’t help but cry out, a long white arm thrown over her face to ward him off. He swiped at it, one claw snagging her flesh, scratching it, the scent of her blood in the air now.

Her teeth were bared and her eyes were on his, golden and flashing. She shrieked into his face, not a human sound. 

Yes, this could only be her. He’d found her.

His arms were thin, covered in dense brown hair, and so strong. He took hold of her and she shrieked again, her luminous body trembling in his arms. He held tighter, his muzzle against her neck as a pair of wings, webbed with fine skin, unfurled from her bare back.

He stood to his full height, lifting her, exhilarated, his head thrown back and howling. As his call died away, her hands clamped on either side of his head, her eyes blazing, the wound on her arm visible to him. His tall, pointed ears twitched at the sight of it and he did what he would have done if it had been his own wound. He licked it, cleaned it with his mouth with firm, deliberate pressure, moisture, and searing heat. She tipped her head against his as he bent over her wound, her long, silky, golden-white hair falling over his ears and head, wafting against his face, a feeling the Remus inside him already knew.

The familiarity of it merged with the sound of a distant call, answering his howl, the call of a large dog. And he remembered. The moon was low and he needed to be somewhere. It was vital, urgent. When he set off, she was still in his arms, bending her legs to clamp herself around his body, her face in the crook of his shoulder, her teeth against his hide, holding, not quite biting.

As they neared the shack, his speed was slowing, his arms tiring, head aching. He passed a clawed hand over her back to find her wings were gone.

There was language to his thoughts again. What in the stars was happening?

He pulled her body away from his, leaving her staggering to find her footing on the frozen ground as he rushed away, alone. All that mattered now was reaching the door to the shack, getting behind it. Clothes -- the hair covering his skin was fading, and in a moment he’d need clothes. She couldn’t see him, not like this. He bounded up the stairs, too large, too wolfish for the house, crashing into the bedroom, and diving under the bedclothes.

With a moment more, the moon had set. Moony was gone and Remus was left to himself, shaking and panting, sick and exhausted, his smooth human skin slicked with sweat but cold. It had been so long since he’d transformed back into himself without the lads nearby, waiting to reassure him, to shelter him, to make it almost jolly. He’d forgotten how sad it could be, to come so close to having to face Moony, especially tonight, when he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he’d lost something precious by changing back.

Over the noise of his breath, he heard footsteps on the stairs, not the clamorous rush of the lads finding him, but just one set of feet, walking as if on tiptoe.

He pulled the covers higher over his bare, shivering shoulders as Narcissa Black stepped into the room. She lingered by the doorway, not able to look at him yet. He should have been surprised to find her following him here, her skin flushed with cold, her hair wild, broken twigs and dead leaves caught in it. But he wasn’t. Of course she was here, standing in the shrieking shack late in January during a full moon, without a cloak, hugging herself for warmth.

“I wondered if I’d see you,” she began, her eyes on the floorboards she traced with her toe. “Tonight, at the full moon. I knew it was possible, but I wasn’t counting on it. I’d gone as a Veela to look in the lake for the merpeople by the light of the moon, like you said. But if I’m honest, what I wanted to see most of all was you, in your other form, and then again once you’d changed back and could talk to me about what you saw in me tonight.”

“Your arm,” he said, distracted. “Did I…” He couldn’t finish.

“Yes, but it was an accident,” she said, holding her arm out in the dim dawn light, looking at the scratch herself. “You took me by surprise on the lakeshore. I lashed out and you grazed my arm.”

“By the stars, Black. I never would have -- “

“I know. You apologized.”

He scoffed. “I can’t apologize when I’m like that. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“But you did,” she said. “You cleaned it for me. And I knew what you meant by it.”

Cleaned it -- after a moment he figured out what she was saying. It was coming back to him, the memory of finding her at the lake, taking her away, bringing her here to keep her for himself. He gulped past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I know.” She moved, slowly to the end of the bed and sat on the corner opposite his feet. After a night awake in the forest, transformed into her Veela form, she was exhausted, cold, and wanted little more than to crawl to the top of the bed, lay her head down on the empty pillow there, and sleep. 

He seemed to know, and muttered a spell to summon a blanket from the cupboard, tossing it to her to wrap around herself. He wouldn’t invite her to sleep here, but he wouldn’t watch her shiver for another second either.

“You didn’t kill me,” she said as she curled up and tucked the edge of the blanket around her feet.

He shook his head. “No, we only kill humans, and you, well, you’re -- “

“You saw it then?” she said, suddenly energized, leaning forward, straying onto his side of the mattress.

“I saw something.”

“What was it like?”

He sighed, shutting his eyes, looking back into Moony’s mind, fighting to remember more. “I can only recall images. Golden eyes, wings, and your skin...Anyone would have been able to see it.”

“But they don’t,” she said. “I’ve tried to call it forth for ordinary wizards. I’ve made myself exactly as I was tonight before. I’ve tried it with my sisters, and with a few men I trust. Lucius, and Severus, and my cousin Regulus. I did it just as I did tonight, and they saw nothing but me pulling faces.”

Remus’s head was shaking, denying. “They’re having you on, then,” he said. “I don’t remember what happened but I do know what I saw. You were transformed. If you hadn’t been, I’d have killed you. No, they’re lying, or blind. I saw you. You were…” Again, he couldn’t finish.

She nodded, her head bowed, chin sunk below the hem of the blanket. “They’re not lying. They’re just not like us,” she said. “Was I a monster? Tell me.”

His eyes were open again, but fixed on the ceiling. “Monster? It couldn’t have been that bad. Moony brought you back here with him, after all.”

“Moony?”

“Me. Werewolf me. Moony.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad?” she repeated. “You say it as if you don’t remember.”

His face blanched, and if she knew him better, she would know it was the tell of his lying. “I told you. I can remember images, but not what happened.” 

Let her go on from there, as if he didn’t remember the softness of her skin against his tongue, the tang of her blood, the sharp edge of her teeth on his hide as he ran with her through the trees, embracing her, so precious, taking her away. Let her go on without knowing that the sight of her back, white against the black of the lake, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

She cleared her throat. “What did you -- what did Moony want with me?”

At this, Remus’s blanched face coloured red. It was clear what Moony wanted, clear but unspeakable. If he’d found her sooner, not so close to dawn, if he hadn’t heard Padfoot calling to him from afar…

Remus forced a cough to hide the shiver running through his body. “You’ve played fetch with a dog before, haven’t you?” he said. “They chase things just for the having of them.”

“Yes, they chew them up and then let them go so they can chase them down again,” she finished.

He shrugged. “I can’t explain him any better. Moony isn’t something I understand well. His heart isn’t always mine. And his mind is never mine.”

She hummed, the blanket was warm enough to reshape her tiredness into sleepiness. She cast another longing look at the pillow beside Remus’s head before she blinked away the impulse to lie next to him and sleep. “You don’t remember what I said to Moony when you -- when he found me?”

He smirked. This part was true. “Moony’s not one for conversation. Whatever you said would have sounded to him like crying or screaming, possibly laughing. Or so people who know him tell me.”

“People? Which people know him?”

As if in answer, the door to the shack crashed open. The lads had come. They were calling his name, storming upstairs.

Narcissa was on her feet, and at the same moment, Remus sat up in bed, the covers falling to his waist, baring his thin, pale torso but he was too panicked to be embarrassed. “Go!” he said. “Through that exit Floo there. The password is Wormtail. Go on!”

The acrid smell of Floo powder still hung in the air as the lads tumbled into the room. No one mentioned it. Maybe they hadn’t noticed.

“There he is,” Sirius said, falling on the bed, rolling into the blanket Narcissa had just shed.

“Good old Moony,” James said, collapsing across the foot of the bed. “You did make it back here on your own.”

“Terribly sorry about the wild night, lads,” Remus said. Peter had tossed a jumper at him and he was now pulling it over his head. “I must be more agitated than I knew about something.”

“Yes, well, we were out of our minds with worry,” James said, punching at Remus’s leg through the covers. “Imagining you raging into some Death Eater trap.”

Remus scoffed as he stood up to pull on his trousers. “They’ve no interest in me. Their werewolf quota is full, I’m sure. It’s the rest of you who need to worry.”

Sirius smirked. “I don’t know about that. But we do know it wasn’t Death Eaters you were after tonight.”

Remus’s hands froze, caught in the motion of fastening his belt. “Moony,” he said. “I was after nothing tonight. I can’t speak to what Moony might have -- “

His words cut short when Peter draped a long swath of black fabric around his neck. It was heavy, like a Hogwarts cloak, but not his. The fabric was finer than anything he’d ever worn, fully-lined with pale green silk, fragrant with narcissus flowers. He crushed a handful of it in his fist, speechless.

“Found this by the lake,” Sirius said. “Near a patch of snow deep enough to hold a footprint -- yours. No blood or signs of a struggle, so I assume the owner of the cloak survives.”

Remus answered with only a nod.

Peter reached for the cloak again, leaving it on Remus’s back but turning to the green lining and the monogram sewn over the inside pocket.

“A bit surprised to see the Black family crest stitched into it,” Sirius said. “I won’t wear the crest, but Regulus does.”

“Although,” James said, bowing his face into the cloak around Remus’s shoulders, inhaling deeply, “I’m no hound, but this cloak does not smell like Regulus to me.”

“Though he’s not the only other student entitled to wear the Black crest,” Sirius continued. “There’s one more person.”

Remus rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips.

“Do you want to name her?” James prodded, his tone almost light, as if the incident might be something of a joke. “Or shall we?”

“It’s not funny,” Remus snapped. “It’s awful.”

“What is it?” Sirius demanded, not a trace of mirth left. “You have to tell us what that mania tonight had to do with Narcissa Black.”

Remus snarled, still close enough to Moony for all three of the lads to take a reflexive step backward. “It’s Moony. He fancies her.” Remus said it though it sounded stupid -- a massive understatement of the mad, wild extent of Moony’s hunger.

Sirius was aghast. “Narcissa?”

“Not really,” Remus said, sitting hard in the armchair by the fireplace. “Narcissa has a creature-self. Some residual trace of Veela ancestry only visible to other creatures, which so far means to Moony alone. Apparently, he’s quite taken with it.”

“Veela ancestry?” Peter repeated, eyeing Sirius.

“Not through the Black family. Through her mother’s side,” Remus said.

“The Rosiers?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Moony must have had quite the interview with her to sort out details like that,” Sirius said, angry now.

“She didn’t tell me tonight,” Remus barked back to him. “It was in class, while we were human.”

“And you’re only telling us tonight -- “

“Look, we need to settle this later,” James said, stepping between them. “The castle will be up for the day any minute now.”

“Oh yes, and the darling Lily Evans must be seen to,” Sirius sneered.

“What is that supposed to -- “

“Lads, lads, lads,” Peter was saying, pulling the cloak from Remus’s shoulders and bundling it in his arms. “What we need to do now is eat. None of us is as angry as we imagine. We’re just knackered and famished. You know how it is.”

“Right,” James said, standing down. “The exit Floo then?”

Sirius spun away from them. “Suit yourselves. I’m going back by the tunnel. I could use the walk. Don’t follow. I’ll see you in class.”


	13. Thirteen

Sirius's early morning walk from the shrieking shack back to the castle through the tunnel at the base of the willow tree had done little to improve his mood. Before he’d set off, he'd taken the cloak Narcissa Black had left on the lakeshore out of Peter's hands. He held it now by one corner, dragging it behind himself as he strode across the Entrance Hall to the Slytherin stairwell, looking for his cousin.

His glare swept the hall, where students of every house were leaving breakfast, a few stragglers rushing in late. He had no clear plan of how to get into the Slytherin dungeon, but he wouldn’t need one. Ahead of him, his head down as he read a book, was Regulus.

Sirius caught his brother’s wrist, the left one, just below that mark, just above the pocket where he stashed his wand. With a twist Sirius pulled it up, hard, behind Regulus’s back.

“Get off me! What is the matter with you?”

“I need to talk to Narcissa,” Sirius hissed at him. “And either you can go into your dorm and bring her out, or I can march you in there like this and find her.”

“You don’t even know for sure she’s there,” Regulus answered through gritted teeth.

“Go look, or we’ll bring Slytherin’s two hundred years of no outsiders in the dorm to an end right now.”

Regulus scoffed. “I’ve seen your map. I know you’ve already been in there.”

“Yeah, but they don’t,” Sirius said, nodding at a pack of Slytherins hurrying by with their eyes averted, well-trained in ignoring family spats. “Now get Narcissa. I have something of hers that needs returning."

“I’ll take it,” said an imperious voice. Arriving beside them was Severus Snape.

“Move along, Snape,” Sirius said. “This is a family matter.”

“Yes, most heart-warming.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Sirius said, which might have been the cruelest answer he could have given.

Regulus barked a loud, pained laugh. “Severus is more my brother now than you are.”

Sirius pulled his wrist higher as Regulus yelped. “Ah, yes. You’re brothers in arms now,” Sirius said. “Well, I don’t see your new brother laying hands on me to save you. But I bet you can guess what I’d do if I saw him roughing up you.“

Regulus scoffed again, less convincingly. “Shut it, Sirius. Let go before I -- ”

“What in the stars is going on here, you ignorant animals?” It was Narcissa herself, speaking angrily through a clenched jaw, storming over to intervene, to save face for the Black family. 

Sirius let go of Regulus, leaving him rubbing his shoulder and muttering swears. Sirius pivoted away from him. “Just looking for you, coz. Hoping to return something of yours.” Still holding the cloak with two fingers, dangling the dirty length of fabric in front of her, its pale green silk lining now tattered and grey.

She frowned at it. “That’s not -- “ she began before she recognized the silver stitching on the Black family crest. Without a word, she snatched it from Sirius, her white face flushing pink.

Sirius clapped his hands, just once. “Now, Narcissa, let’s have a word. Some privacy, Snape, if you please.”

“I’m staying,” he said.

Sirius nodded. “Very well, then. Shall I go ahead and say it with everyone listening, Cissa? I’m sure it’s a fascinating story, how that fine cloak of yours ended up in the Forbidden Forest last night.“

“Stop your nonsense,” she said. “It’s alright Severus, Regulus. I’m not afraid of this pathetic little boy.”

As the others left, Narcissa and Sirius rounded on each other, their heads close together, both of them furious. “What were you doing in the forest last night?” they demanded of one another in unison.

Narcissa tossed her head. “I’ll go first, since I’ve nothing to hide. I was walking by the lake and must have left my cloak behind in a hurry. There was some odd howling and it spooked me. I assume that’s where you found it, while you were out doing stars know what with stars know who.”

Sirius grinned. “That is where I found it, actually. And technically, you’ve told me no lies. Very good. Cunning, like they say. But there’s someone else in your story, isn’t there. Someone who always tells me the whole truth.”

Her eyes narrowed and her brow drew itself down. “I didn’t see a single person in the woods last night.”

“Better and better,” Sirius smirked. “Yes, you didn’t see a person. You saw Moony.”

She gave it up. “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I. He found me and grabbed me. Look at my arm.”

She flung her arm between them, showing where Moony had scratched her.

Sirius sucked in a breath. “That’s a scratch from Moony? From just hours ago?”

She nodded, covering it with her sleeve again, unable to go so far as to accuse him. “It was an accident. But still…”

Sirius tapped a finger against his jaw. “For one of Moony’s, that is much too neat of a scratch. I’ve had enough of them in my time to know what they’re like. And there is no possible way it should look that good already. It’s practically healed.”

“Rubbish.”

“Either one of two things is true,” he went on, ignoring her protest. “Either that is an old wound from something other than Moony, or else he treated it for you, in that special way of his. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have healed so soon. And that means, you must have let him…”

Narcissa folded her arms and leaned closer into Sirius’s face. “However it happened, I am through answering to you for it. If Lupin himself wants to talk about it, he only needs to ask me -- “

“No,” Sirius interrupted. “No, no, no. You are not talking to Remus anymore. And you are definitely not seeing Moony ever again -- “

“That is not for you to decide.“

“Maybe not,” Sirius said, their faces almost touching now. “But if I ever find out you’ve been with him again, alone, either as Remus or Moony, as yourself or as some slaggy creature version of yourself, I will owl a letter to Malfoy Manor and tell them everything.”

Her expression was blank, unfazed, but Sirius sensed a slight wobble in her defiant stance. “You think you can threaten me by undoing an arranged marriage I’ve never cared for?”

Sirius tossed his head, laughing. “I know you better than that, coz. You might not care for Malfoy himself, but you know what his family’s like. If they have to make a public break of the betrothal, they’ll be sure everyone knows why. They’ll be sure the entire pureblood movement knows you’ve been consorting with a werewolf -- “

“Consorting? You filthy -- we never -- ”

“Close enough for them,” he snapped. “They won’t care about the details of who licked what and why. Just hearing you’ve gone and made Moony mad for you will be more than enough for Bella to never speak to you again, and my mother, maybe your own mother too -- all of them. Your entire society, turning against you. Don’t act like this is all about whether you get to be Madam Malfoy. It’s about whether your loved ones will let you stay in their lives. They are ruthless when it comes to breaches like this. Believe me.”

She was shaking her head, hardly hearing him. “I’ve gone and made Moony -- what?”

“Consider yourself warned,” Sirius said, retreating. “Stay away from him. For good.”

Narcissa stood in the Entrance Hall, watching Sirius vault up the stairs, out of sight. Her ruined cloak lay at her feet. Her heart beat in her throat, and not at the threat of a public disgrace.

Moony was mad for her. That was what Sirius had said. What did that mean? And what would become of her now that she knew it?

\----------------------------------------

The door to the Head Boy/Girl office was closed as Lily Evans sat in James Potters’ lap, her head on his shoulder. He was telling her about the night he and the lads had spent chasing after Moony, and what they’d found at the end of it.

“It’s almost romantic, isn’t it?” Lily said, her hand pressed flat against James’s opening and closing their fingers, like images in a mirror. “I mean, it would be if it wasn’t Narcissa.”

“Yeah, rotten luck, that,” James agreed. “Just like Remus to have it be a girl who’s already engaged, and to a Death Eater. So that’ll be the end of it. Good thing that lot takes their engagements so seriously.”

“As opposed to who?” Lily teased, burrowing her face into his already loosened collar.

“Not to me,” he said, tipping his head back and lacing their fingers, holding tightly to her hand. “I take my own engagement extremely seriously. Impossibly seriously. Infinitely seriously.”

She laughed against his skin, sitting back with a parting nip. “Do you think they’re soulmates? Not Remus and Narcissa, of course, but Moony and his Veela?”

James hummed, considering it.

“I mean,” she said, “you know more about magical creatures than I do. Can they be right for each other somehow, as creatures, when their human selves are clearly so wrong?”

James groaned. “Sounds like Veela mate mythology.”

“I know, I know,” she rushed to say. “Those old stories about Veela’s having only one magically determined mate were just a ploy to bind them up in safe, divorce-proof marriages. It’s male chauvinist rubbish. But apart from all that, there is the question of how different someone’s creature-self is from their human self.”

James shifted beneath her. “Well, with me and Prongs, I can’t imagine him chasing after someone I didn’t like. But Prongs isn’t a curse for me. I made him. I decide when he comes and goes. I have full agency over him.”

Lily scoffed. “Full agency? Right.”

“What?” he said.

She folded her arms across her middle. “Just today, you got back in the morning, less than an hour after being Prongs all night, and you charged at me without so much as a hello, pawing at me in the common room, in front of everyone, with enough clumsy vigor to untuck my shirt and just about knock me over. It’s a good thing there was a wall at my back.”

James winced. “I did do that.”

“Yes, you did,” she said. “Even though you’re usually very polite and discreet in front of the students. And on top of that, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve pulled your hand out from underneath the hem of my skirt twice already this afternoon.”

“Oh,” he said, blushing, smoothing the fabric over her knee, as if sealing her inside.

“You see, post-Prongs James is more forward than typical James, less inhibited,” she said. “More ruled by his animal drives.”

“Sorry,” he said.

She turned in the chair, her knees still together but her front pressed more squarely to his. “Don’t be sorry, just wary -- for now, at any rate. I look forward to finding out everything post-Prongs, uninhibited James has to offer me, someday soon.”

“Don’t try me, Evans,” he all but moaned into her face.

“Not in this chastity charmed room, I won’t,” she said, leaning slightly away.

He bowed his head against her shoulder, grazing it with his teeth through the fabric of her shirt as he did.

“Maybe we’re the perfect couple to do some experimenting on questions of creature mates versus soulmates,” Lily said. “All you have to do, is help me become an animagus -- “

“No,” James said. “It’s messy and dangerous.”

She gasped, as if offended. “How can you tell me no? I don’t NEED your help.”

“I know, but -- “

“I just thought it would be nice. And not too difficult for you, since you’ve already taught Peter. How bad can it be after that?”

“Exactly,” James said, his hand cupping her knee and pulling her close, as if to protect her. “We learned a lot of hard lessons while we were training. And we did permanent damage to our bodies in the process. I don’t want that for you. Please don’t do it.”

James was hoping to dismiss the subject, but her interest was piqued. Her hands were roving over his shoulders and chest, his neck and face. “Permanent damage? You’re damaged? How is my husband damaged? I need to know.”

He sighed rather miserably. “Give me your hand.” He pressed her fingers to his skull. “It was the antlers. The second time I succeeded in the transformation, we couldn’t get one of them to change back for hours. There’s still a stub there. You feel it?”

She did. Most of the time when her hands were in his hair, it was on the sides and back. But there, on the top of his head, was a bump where the stubborn antler had been.

“I was ready to nick a hacksaw from Filch and cut it off when Sirius finally got it to disappear. If I ever go bald, I’m going to look freakish,” he said.

She couldn’t help but snicker. “Oh, my poor darling,” she said. She took his head in her hands, tipped it forward, and kissed the bump. “Well, this explains the long, unruly hair.”

“Yeah, it’s camouflage,” he said, fingering the spot where she’d kissed him, able to smile about the antler fiasco for the first time in his life. “Sirius was lucky. He eventually outgrew his damage, but that beard he had all winter during sixth year? It was involuntary. It would grow back within an hour of shaving. And that was just the extra hair growth that could be seen with his clothes on. Our shower drain was a nightmare.”

Lily was laughing in spite of herself again. “Marlene loved that beard. Oh my stars. So what happened to Peter?”

James cleared his throat and shifted underneath her again. “That was actually horrifying. He got stalled partly transformed. He was about the size of a fox only with a long pink rat tail. The worst of it was his face. It was too much like his human face to be stuck on an animal. Absolutely uncanny. It took all three of us coordinating a reversal spell and repeating it seven times with hardly a breath in between to bring him back. I didn’t think he’d ever have the nerve to turn into Wormtail again. Proud of him for putting it behind him, really. Poor old chap. But I think his damage is in his brain. His mannerisms changed after that day. That thing he does with his fingers, where he holds his hands up and pinches at nothing. It’s clearly ratty, even when he’s not a rat.”

Lily felt a shudder run through his body. 

“Anyway,” he said, “I know you’re ten times better at transfiguration than Pete, and you’d probably come out as a lovely doe for Prongs to adore, but I’d still rather we not risk permanent damage just to see if we’d still want to date in deer form. This is plenty good.” He kissed her before she could begin to argue. “And what if that randy Prongs got Doe-Lily pregnant, and then our chosen one turned out to be a sweet but useless deer. What would Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix have to say about that?”

“Shut up,” she laughed into his mouth. “Useless -- what a thing to say about our son.” 

“I wonder,” he said, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of her skirt again, “where the chastity charm kicks in for this room. Is it here?” His hand had crept along her leg, until it was up to the knuckles beneath her skirt.

“Is this uninhibited Prongs’s doing?” she said, breathless against his lips.

“No, this is all James.” he said as he slunk slightly higher, his entire hand disappearing to the wrist under the stiff, grey woolen fabric. 

She swallowed hard, not noticing how tightly she was clinging to his neck, as if to keep herself from drowning. “No alarms yet,” she said.

“No, but this must be close to tripping it,” he said, his fingers flexing, moving against the smooth, warm skin of her thigh, his breath quick but heavy. “It’s got to be -- “

“Miss Evans…”

Lily sprang to her feet, smoothing her skirt as Professor McGonagall pushed the door open, like a chastity charm in human form letting herself into their office. 

“Yes, Professor!”

McGonagall was slightly taken aback. “There’s no need to shout, Miss Evans. Look at poor Mr. Potter’s face. You’ve scared him out of his wits. Calm down, Potter. Don’t get up on my account. Take all the time you need.”

Lily stumbled and sputtered around the room, offering her professor chairs and tea.

“No, we shan’t be staying long,” she said. “I am sent by the headmaster to send you to visit your parents in advance of the wedding.”

“Oh, has Professor Dumbledore decided when it will be then?” Lily asked.

“No, this business with your parents must come first,” McGonagall said. “It may affect the wedding plans. Miss Evans, your birthday is tomorrow. Celebrate it at home. You may inform your parents about the wedding or you may choose not to. It is completely in your hands.”

She turned to James. “And afterwards, go to the Potters’ manor and let them know. Whether you choose to include your parents, Mr. Potter, is also up to you, but neither of you should be married without seeing them one last time as their children.”

James was standing up now. “My parents will be available tomorrow. They always are, but Mitch Evans -- “

“Has already been notified by the school that you are coming and will be available to you all evening.” She held her mouth in a tight but not unhappy heart shape. “You’ve done well with him so far, Potter. He appears to like you.” She lifted a stack of parchments from the desk and batted him on the head with it. “See that you don’t do anything stupid to dissuade him.”

\------------------------------------

There was a sharp, persistent rapping on the door of the prefects’ office. It was almost curfew and the rest of the prefects were patrolling while Remus Lupin who, everyone agreed, was looking awfully peaky this evening, had been left to mind the office.

He’s pallid complexion was suddenly florid when he opened the door and found Narcissa Black waiting on the other side. He did nothing to hide his cringing. “Curfew is in five minutes, Black. You shouldn’t be here so late.”

Her arms were folded across her middle, her head was cocked to one side, provoking him. “I need to report an incident of violence between two students. I witnessed it this morning.”

Remus gave a long sigh, sat heavily behind the desk, and drew the pad of blank incident report parchments toward himself. “This morning?”

“Yes, as breakfast was ending. I was particularly hungry this morning -- “

“Where did it happen?

“In the Entrance Hall.”

“And could you identify the students involved?”

“Of course. They were my cousins.”

Remus let his quill drop on the paper. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing. I came here looking for reassurance that my young cousin Regulus wouldn’t be bullied at school by this brother any longer, and I expect you to launch a fair, unbiased investigation.”

Remus sat back, rubbing his face with his palms. “No, you didn’t come here expecting that at all.“

She planted her hands on the desktop and leaned over it. “Investigate it, Lupin. Ask me. Wouldn’t you like to know why the entire Hogwarts Black family was rowing in public today? Haven’t you heard it from Sirius?”

“No,” he said. “If Regulus wants to make a complaint himself -- ”

She hit the desktop with one hand. “No. You need to know that Sirius sought us out to order me -- to threaten me -- that I must never speak to you again.”

“He sought -- what?”

“Your best friend told me that if I ever speak to you again, he’ll explode my future by telling the Malfoys I’ve been consorting with a werewolf.”

“Consorting?” Remus echoed. “That makes it sound like -- but we didn’t do anything -- we hardly -- “

“Oh please, Lupin,” she said, sitting on a corner of the desk. “You grabbed me and licked my arm and carried me through the woods while I held onto your shoulder with my teeth. Not to mention you weren’t wearing any clothes the entire time -- “

“Will you please, stop,” he said, kneading his shoulder.

“Ah, so you remember now, do you?” She stood up, moving behind the desk, next to him. “How’s the shoulder? Is there a mark?”

With another massive sigh, Remus loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and tugged it aside to look at the place where the Veela had gripped Moony with her teeth. He wasn’t expecting what he saw and swore at the sight. “What did you do?”

She flew at him, scooting to stand directly in front of him, between his knees behind the desk, pushing his hand aside, pulling at his clothing as he uttered strangled nonverbal protests. His skin was marked with a purple bruise and within it, two small punctures. 

She hissed. “I was worried it might be like this. I’m sorry. Honestly, I didn’t mean to break the skin with those fangs. But you were moving about so wildly -- “

“I said, stop talking about it.”

“Hold it like that,” she said, reaching into her robes. “I’ve brought something with me, a balm to keep it from scarring. I didn’t mean to maim you, and stars know I never want anyone identifying my teeth marks in your skin.” She twisted a stopper from a small, flat canister and scooped a dollop of thick, greasy-looking paste onto her fingertips. “It won’t hurt,” she said.

The balm was cold, and he shivered as she touched him. “What is it, exactly?”

“Nothing much,” she answered. “Complexion Perfexion is what it’s called. If you had more witches in your life, you’d already know about it.” She dabbed it lightly onto his bared shoulder before working it in with firmer pressure, warming it with her touch. His shoulders were thinner than Moony’s, but still ropey with lean muscle, tense as she worked them. She cleared her throat.

Remus bit his lip. He had turned his face as far from her hand as he could, eyes shut tight. His fingertips pricked with an urge to grab her, his throat ached around a silent howl. He checked his hand. No extra hair growth, no fingernails lengthening into claws. He wasn’t transforming, but he felt Moony all the same, close, alive inside him, reaching out to her whether she looked like a Veela at the moment or not. A sound rumbled in his throat, but he mastered it, forcing it into words. 

“That should do it,” he said.

She was withdrawing her hand, but moving slowly, curving her fingers over the taut tendons in his neck, finding her way to the hollow between his collarbones, where his pulse beat hard and fast in his throat.

“You know,” she said, her own heart drumming as she lifted her hand and turned her face up to look at him, her eyes so blue they were icy white. “Maybe it’s not too late to try this balm on some of your other scars. What could it hurt?” 

Her fingers were drifting up, toward the marks on his face when Remus caught them and folded his hand around hers.

She interrupted as he began to speak. “Did you send him? Was it really you who sent Sirius to tell me never to talk to you again?”

She sounded almost hurt. There was a slight tremor in Remus’s otherwise strong jaw as he looked back at her, his thumb passing over Lucius Malfoy’s engagement ring as he lowered their joined hands and let hers go. “Sirius may have been brutal to Regulus today, and rude to you, and out of line to speak for me. But he wasn’t wrong. You and I need to leave each other alone from now on.”

“That won’t do,” Narcissa said, simply and with finality. “There’s more I need to know from you, about my Veela form. We know you can see me when you’re transformed. But what if you’re not transformed? Can you still see me if you’re not Moony but Lupin?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help you with this. Think of it. What if your transformation triggers my own? What if you were to transform right now and all the sudden we had Moony loose in the castle? I’d wind up killing someone, and ultimately, being killed myself to put an end to the rampage.”

She took a deep breath, and sank back to sit on the desk in front of him. “There must be some way for us to do it safely, responsibly. That house Moony brought me to -- could we do it there?”

“No,” he said, pulling her to her feet again. “This is the end of it. You know you are indeed a Veela, and now you can find your peace with it and carry on.”

“My peace with it?” she said as he pushed her shoulders from behind, walking her toward the door. “What about Moony’s peace with it?”

“Moony is completely uninterested in peace, and in you.”

“Is he?” she said as Remus reached for the doorknob. “Sirius told me Moony is mad for me.” 

The words left Remus’s hand hanging in mid-air, partway to the doorknob. 

“He didn’t mean to say it,” she resumed. “I’m not sure even now that Sirius realizes he did say it. But he certainly did. Do you deny it?”

Remus’s hand was shaking, rattling the doorknob as he tried to twist it open. “Moony is a lunatic. He’s mad for everything.”

“Quiet, Lupin,” she said, speaking to him over her shoulder as he reached around her, closing her hand over his on the doorknob, stopping his shaking. “I will tell you this, and then I’ll go. I want Moony to know that I know he likes me. And that -- I’m -- fascinated by it.”

Remus’s face was white, his scars standing out more than ever. He shook his head. “Don’t look for him again. I won’t let him out. I’ll keep him locked in that house next full-moon -- every full-moon until school is over and you’re safe in Malfoy Manor.”

“Then I’ll go to that house by Floo,” she said, still gripping his hand.

“It’s an exit-only Floo. You won’t get in. Forget it, Narcissa.” 

She turned around, her face in his as he bent to open the door. They were close again, not the way they’d been the night before, but in something reminiscent of it, close enough that her voice fell to a husky whisper as she said, “He won't hurt me.”

They stood still for a moment, eye to eye, near enough to feel the rush of each other’s breath. Remus’s eyes moved over her face, her eyes, the mouth that looked far too delicate to have marked him. He made one last lunge forward, twisting hard to the doorknob behind her, the latch clicking free. Her mouth had opened as he moved, in surprise, perhaps, or to speak, or for something else entirely.

“This,” he said pushing the door open, “is what too few people understand about Moony. Yes, he must be kept from hurting other people. But what his friends are most afraid of him hurting is himself. Anyone who doesn't understand that is no friend of his.”

Hands on her shoulders again, he spun her around and shoved her into the corridor outside, alone.

\----------------------------------------

Dinner in Cokeworth was more pleasant than Lily and James had expected -- almost eerily so. In spite of Vernon’s dour demeanor, Mitch was as friendly as ever, joining James in cajoling Lily to let James buy her a broom so she could float with her father around the streets after dark, scaring all the drunks straight. 

The manners of Cheryl and Petunia were extremely nice, verging on sweet -- too nice, even for a birthday. The effect was unsettling. Something was wrong but Lily wasn’t sure what. Cheryl had cooked a lasagna, a favourite of Lily’s. Petunia had baked a birthday cake and decorated it like one she’d seen in a magazine. It was the prettiest cake Lily had ever seen up close.

After dinner, Lily was forbidden to help with the washing up, and sat in the lounge in front of the television with James and her father as Mitch explained the rules of the rugby match they were watching. 

Eventually, Cheryl called her upstairs to see Petunia’s wedding dress. Lily sat on her parents’ bed as Petty stepped out of the bathroom in a floor length white dress with a tiered skirt and a ruffle across the bust and shoulders, a peasant, country style that had been popular long enough to be positively normal. It was topped off by a wide brimmed sun hat.

“Oh Petty, you look like an angel,” Lily said, making a slow walk around her.

Petunia smiled and nodded. “You have to imagine it with the flowers. I was thinking of carrying lilies. Petunias are no good for bouquets.”

Lily gasped out a little sob. “I’d be honored. Thank you, Petty.”

“Yes, well,” she said, fingering her hat as if she was nervous, or maybe just modest. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” Lily said. “All of it. I can’t wait to stand up there beside you. What have you chosen for my dress?”

Cheryl caught Lily’s hand and pulled her to sit on the bed. “That’s the thing, love,” she began. “After the posh proposal and ring, it’s going to be a small wedding, with just one bridesmaid. And -- ah, you finish the rest, Petunia.”

“We’re going with Vernon’s sister Marge,” Petunia said, fast, as if tearing off a plaster. “When you come down to it, she’s equally family to us. And what’s more, we can be sure that with Marge, there won’t be any -- well nothing out of the ordinary will happen. We can count on a normal wedding.”

Lily’s posture slumped into a listless curve, as if her heart was broken and she couldn’t support her spine without it. “Marge? I’m not your bridesmaid? Petty, all my life I’ve been your bridesmaid. We used to play-act it when we were little. You’d dress me up in that floral tablecloth and you’d tell me I was your bridesmaid -- “

“That was a long time ago,” Petunia said. “That was before we knew -- what you are, what you might do.”

Lily looked helplessly at Cheryl. “Mum?”

“I’ve already been over it with her. I tried my best. But it’s her wedding, love,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Right,” Lily said, nodding as her vision clouded over with tears she wouldn’t shed in front of Petunia. “Well, I’m off then. Thanks for the birthday party.”

Blurry-eyed, she came stumbling down the stairs with such a racket James met her at the bottom, sure she was falling. “Oh, there you are,” she greeted him in a tone she hoped was light enough not to upset her father. She glanced into the lounge and saw Vernon’s legs and feet hanging over the edge of the sofa from behind a newspaper.

Marge Dursley. Petunia’s bridesmaid was Marge Dursley.

Lily clutched James’s hand. “We’re leaving now.”

“Already? But your broom -- “

“I don’t have a broom.”

“Not at this moment, but I was going to -- “

“Now, James,” she said, her voice finally cracking. She dropped it to a whisper. “For stars sake, James, get me out of here now.”

In a moment more, they’d taken their leave, Cheryl hushing Mitch and telling him just to let them go. Without knowing why, James clung to Lily as she apparated them to the ground beneath a leafless tree at the top of a cold, wind-blown hill overlooking Cokeworth. It was there that she finally began to weep, choking through her story of Petunia’s bridesmaid betrayal.

“It -- it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud,” she said, still crying. “It sounds so -- “

“Petty?” James finished.

“Yes,” she said, lowering her forehead to his shoulder. “I wish I didn’t care at all about bridesmaids, and weddings, and little girl fantasies, but I do. I cared about Petty’s wedding, maybe because I’d already given up on having a proper one of my own.”

“Listen,” he said, taking her wet, splotchy face in his hands. “I am hereby canceling our wedding in Dumbledore’s office with no one there but us and McGonagall.”

“You’re hereby -- what?”

“We’re changing everything,” he said. “We’ll go to my parents and plan something beautiful. In my favourite garden at home. With you dressed like a princess. And we’ll bring the lads and Marlene for guests -- Sirius as best man in dress robes. Imagine it. And we’ll have cake and music and lights. And if you want Petunia for a bridesmaid, I say you have her, so she can see what it is to be a gracious bride.”

Lily hopped and closed her arms around his neck. She was kissing his face, still crying but for happiness now, telling him again that she loved him.

“Not just a gracious bride,” he went on. “The best bride. My bride.”


	14. Fourteen

This time, it was James who apparated them away from Cokeworth, taking himself and Lily, who was still teary about being snubbed as her sister's bridesmaid in favour of Marge Dursley, home to his parents. They appeared in James's bedroom, their arms still around each other, so close to his bed they might have tumbled into it if Lily hadn’t caught herself on the post.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" she said, blinking in the dim light.

"Sorry, I just thought of taking you home and it ended up," he smoothed her hair with his palm, "like this."

She boosted herself onto her toes to kiss him chastely on the mouth. "Plan a wedding for me first. Then maybe we can talk honeymoon."

They found Effie and Monty in the study on the main floor, a huge hot fire on the hearth. "Here's Jimsy," Effie beamed as James let himself in. "And the sweetheart."

"It's Lily, Mum."

"I know that, of course," she laughed, taking both Lily's hands. "But she's our sweetheart for life. Aren't you dear?"

Lily smiled and stammered just as James lunged toward Monty's desk, talking much too loudly. "No, not again, Dad. You've got that flaming star chart out."

"Yes, laddie," Monty said. "We've got plans to make, haven't we? You and the sweetheart need marrying."

James made no answer, shrugging and gaping at Lily. She took it over. "Yes, we've been considering it for weeks, and we’ve talked about it with the headmaster and agreed it would be for the best."

Monty accepted it with a nod and with a savage jab of his wand against the parchment of the chart, almost sharp enough to tear it. There beneath his wand was a dark, ugly smudge, like a scorch mark from a dirty flame. "He's attacked you. Tom Riddle, that monster. He’s raised his wand to my boy."

James hung his head. But Effie's hands were on his face head, lifting it and stroking his hair and cheeks. "But he’s alright now, our Jimsy."

"Yeah," he said. "But if it hadn't been for the swee -- for Lily, it might not have gone so well. So it’s better if we’re together, always.”

“But that's not it,” Monty said, reading again from the chart. “That is not the why of the wedding.”

James heaved a great sigh, weary like one of Remus’s. “Right, Dad,” he looked to Lily. “Dad wants us to admit that they were right, that we’re soulmates.”

She nodded. “Consider it admitted.”

Effie moved to Monty's side and took his hand, patting it as she said, "And they'll be happy together, for the rest of their lives."

"And after," Monty added in a choked voice, more like a sob. "And ever after."

A rare thing happened, rare to James's knowledge, at any rate. Monty lifted Effie's hand and kissed it as she bent an arm below his chin and kissed the jumble of thin white hair at the top of his head.

The room felt more funerary than like a wedding planning party. Effie seemed to know it and led everyone out, moving to the drawing room.

"I was thinking," James began, "of having the ceremony in the south rose garden, but the weather might still be too fierce for an outdoor party by next weekend."

"There's the ballroom," Effie said. "Lots of cobwebs at the moment. It will take some cleaning but -- ”

“No, Mum. we want a nice wedding, but it won’t be a big one,” James said. “It's still a secret. For guests, there'll be just you two, some teachers, the lads, and maybe a friend of Lily’s who’s already in the Order of the Phoenix.”

Effie winked. “Order of the Phoenix, eh? You leave it with me, Jimsy." She turned her big, spectacled eyes on Lily. "No Evans guests?"

Lily’s chin quivered. “No, I’m afraid not. My parents aren’t ready, and my sister and I have just fallen out.”

Effie hummed. “I understand about your parents. But as for your sister -- don’t waste any time being at odds with your loved ones.”

James was moving them away from the issue Petunia as quickly as he could. “We’ll need four sets of matching dress robes for the lads. That’s easy. But what can we do about a dress for Lily?”

“That is none of your business, Jimsy,” Effie said. “That’s for the sweetheart and I alone. What else do you want, deary?”

“Cake,” James said. “A marvelous cake. No cabbage.”

Effie chirped. “Cabbage? Whoever thought of a cake with cabbage?”

“Just making sure,” James said. “What else, Lily, speak up.”

“Pictures,” she said. “Muggle pictures, in full colour, without any movement. I’ll want to show my parents some day…”

She was sad again, so sad James pulled her into his lap and closed his arms around her waist in front of his parents. “Yes, all the pictures you want,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. Remus’s mum is a Muggle. She’ll have a camera we can use, and she’ll know how to get the pictures out of it.”

Monty had seemed to be dozing but he raised his head now, settled his glasses onto his nose. He looked across the room, to where James sat holding the sweetheart. Once upon a time, it would have been a bit racy for Monty, but tonight, he gave a slow nod and half of a smile. 

“Worth it,” Monty said. “Yes, it will be worth it.”

\---------------------------------------

The snow was nearly gone as the seventh year Care of Magical Creatures class made its way to the edge of the forest. Peter was eager to shake off the lads in favour of Alice Fortescue for the next hour. It had been an odd weekend with James gone away for most of it, planning a wedding with Lily and his parents, while Sirius and Remus had handled each other with a strained coolness Peter didn't understand.

"A camera," James was saying to Remus. "One that makes Muggle pictures we can give to Lily's parents when the time is right. Does she have one? Your Mum?"

"She should. That must have been how they got baby pictures of me to send to my Gran," Remus said, glancing over his shoulder again.

Sirius laughed. "Oh, come off it, Remus," he said. "You don't expect us to believe you were ever a baby. Not you."

Remus did not return the laugh. "I was, actually. It may surprise some people to know, but I have all the same feelings and desires as anyone else."

"Right. What is going on between the pair of you?" Peter demanded. “Whatever it is, I can’t bear another round of it. When I get back, you’d better be back to normal.” With that, he set off to join Alice.

James frowned, confused. “What’s he on about? Did something happen?”

“No,” Remus said.

But at the same time, Sirius said, “When I met Narcissa to return her cloak, I told her to leave Remus alone. And he’s not too keen on that, apparently.”

“What I’m not too keen on,” Remus said, hissing, whispering to keep the rest of the class from hearing, “is you laying down the law about what and I can do and with whom without consulting me. Just because I’m -- you know -- it doesn’t mean you can treat me like a pet.”

Sirius was shaking his head. “Padfoot’s having none of your treated-like-a-pet talk. And I have no regrets about scaring off Narcissa. None at all. And I’ll tell her the same again if she tries to partner up with you today.”

Remus groaned and turned in a circle.

“No, you need guidance,” Sirius maintained. “And protection. You’ve got no experience with girls, no idea what crazy, irrational things they can get you to do.”

“There you go again. Treating me like a mindless animal. Girls making people crazy -- nonsense. James, say something.”

James raised his eyebrows. “I may not be the best person to ask.”

They fell quiet as Grubbly-Plank started class by expressing her disappointment in everyone for the mass exposure to Hodag powder. “So as penance, as a service to the school, and to guarantee at least one class with no disasters, for today we will embark on a labour with no risk at all -- hardly any. The fifth years let all but three of our Bowtruckles escape into these woods, and they need to be retrieved. By you. This afternoon. So partner up and get to work.”

“It’s on, mates. Here she comes,” James said, watching over Sirius’s shoulder as Narcissa approached, coming to claim a partner.

“Right,” Sirius said, spinning toward her instead of away from her this time. “Come on, coz. Let’s make gathering Bowtruckles a family affair.”

Narcissa wouldn’t look at him. “Not today,” she said. “If you recall, I’m with Lupin.”

“Fine,” Sirius said, hauling on James’s arm. “You don’t want me? Have Potter.”

“Potter.” She had a way of saying his name that made it sound like she was swearing. “No thank you. And don’t bother threatening me with disgrace, Sirius. This is a public setting. Completely,” she said, smiling up at Remus, “completely innocent.”

Sirius scoffed. “Tell it to someone else -- “

“Look,” James interrupted. “There’s no need for you two to fight over him. Just tell her no, Remus. That’ll be the end of it.”

Narcissa had yet to take her eyes from Remus, her head cocked to one side now, as if she was sweet when truly she was daring him to try to send her away.

He hadn’t seen her all weekend, not since he’d barely kept himself from devouring her against the door of the prefects’ office. Maybe it was the sunlight diffused through the haze in the cold air and dappled through the leafless trees, but she was prettier than he remembered. Not that it mattered. Her force was magnetic, pulling at him with an attraction beyond what she looked like. He couldn’t be alone with her, but she was right about this being a public setting. Here in the sunshine, halfway through the lunar cycle, Moony was unreachable. It was the best place, the only place Remus could risk being near her.

And Sirius deserved to be put in his place.

“No,” Remus said. “I will exercise my power to choose for myself, as an adult, and I say we all stay with the partners we had last time. Happy Bowtruckle hunting, lads.”

Narcissa smirked over her shoulder at Sirius as she followed Remus. “Well, isn’t this nice?” she said. “In the forests together again.”

Remus said nothing, trudging ahead of her, past the thickets where pairs of students were already searching for Bowtruckles, little magical creatures who looked almost exactly like broken, leafless tree branches, which was what everything looked like in February.

“Wait up, Lupin. Grubbly-Plank said to find Bowtruckles, not Centaurs,” Narcissa called after him. “I’ve never been this deep in the forest untransformed.”

“Will you be quiet about transformation?” he said, stopping so she could catch up. “Anyone could hear you.”

“What? I’m only speaking for myself,” she said. She stopped partway down a slope, amused to find it brought them to the same height. “I can transform into a creature. I may as well say it. No one believes me but you.”

He looked into her face. “Is it possible for you to stop baiting and tormenting me for a little while? Can we please just fill this time being normal?”

“This is normal for us.”

“Well, I don’t want this to be normal,” he blurted. “If you can’t be natural then talk to me like -- like I’m interviewing you for a newspaper.”

She laughed. “That is definitely not natural.”

“Isn’t it though?” he asked. “Your kind is always on the society page, giving insipid answers to banal questions.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. All they ever want to know about is my engagement.”

“Fine,” Remus began. “What stone is in your ring?”

“Opal.” She said, holding her hand out, as if she expected Remus to look at it.

He didn’t look, attending instead to the cracking pile of twigs he was sifting through. “Opal? Are you mad? Is there a stone that’s more frequently cursed than that?”

She breathed a laugh through her nose. “So cursed, so pretty. Precisely what makes it a perfect tribute to my union with Malfoy.”

Remus kept up his interview. “When’s the wedding? Four or five years from now?”

“September,” she said. “September second. The day after my nineteenth birthday. Almost exactly a year since we struck the agreement. Struck the agreement -- doesn’t that sound romantic? Our fathers signing prenuptial contracts in the study before signalling to Malfoy to take me out on the terrace and finalize the deal.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Remus said, stooped to the ground now, pushing low, dirty branches aside to look for Bowtruckles. “The pair of you look like a matched set.”

She scoffed. “You mean the hair?”

He glanced up from the thicket. “It’s more than that.”

“It is,” she admitted. “There is a tolerable compatibility between us. At least he’s tall. I like tall. And kissing him isn’t as repulsive as I had feared.”

Remus meant to make a disinterested hum but it came out as more of a growl.

She went on. “Well, in looking alike, I suppose we can presume to know what my Malfoy children will look like. Can you imagine? Gorgeous little monsters.”

“Half-monsters,” he corrected.

She dropped to squat beside him. “Remus Lupin, did you just make a joke about my being a creature? A joke? Right to my face? You?”

He pivoted on his heels to face her. “See, you hardly know me. The lads and I are silly with werewolf jokes. If you and I were anything like real friends, you’d know that.”

She scoffed. “I don’t have to be a friend of yours to know you better than just about anybody,” she said. “I know all of you. How many people can say that? Those three best mates of yours, and I would assume your parents. Who else?”

He stood up. “This my interview,” he said. “You don’t get to ask questions.”

“Well, I am going to ask one anyway. An insipid one. What’s your favourite class at school?” she said, rising to her feet again.

He laughed. “What are you, eleven years old?”

“Just answer.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said without any more hesitation.

“Interesting. That’s mine as well,” she said.

He was scoffing now. “Really? Well, look at us. How’s that for irony?”

She frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “Sitting in DADA class every day, bold as brass with your Death Eater’s opal ring.”

“Ah, you mean that because of what we are, you, a werewolf and me, Malfoy’s dear one, that class is not for us,” she said. “I disagree. I say we need that class most of all.”

“No, I agree completely,” he said. “It’s ironic, not wrong. I’d like to teach the subject here someday. Explaining the dark magic all around us without so much hate and fear of it.” The twig in his grip snapped as he handled it. “But that’s not likely to happen.”

Above his head, he heard her sigh. “I’m not studying it as a possible profession either,” she said. “The DADA skill I’m best at isn’t even taught in school. Father’s been teaching us at home for years. Me and Bella and Severus too, since Andromeda left.”

“Severus? He’s taking private DADA lessons with the House of Black?”

“In Occlumency. Yes, we all are,” she said. “Father says it will help us if we’re called upon for reconnaissance.”

“Spying?”

“What have you, I don’t care about any of that,” she said. “My concern is being able to live without fear but with Death Eaters coming and going from under my roof at Malfoy Manor. If I can’t close my mind to them, I’ll never achieve that. It’s not an easy skill, but I’m quite good at it. A natural sneak, two-faced. Ready to fake my way through a sham of a happy marriage.”

It was then that it struck him -- her frustration, her grief, how awful it was, how scared and hopeless she must be. He rose to standing. “Narcissa, that’s -- “

“A blessing in disguise,” she finished. “Mastering Occlumency means whatever my Veela gets up to, Malfoy will never have to know.” She was pretending to be flippant, falling back on teasing, on flirting with him when they came too close to what hurt her.

Remus wouldn’t let her deflect it, his tone staying grave and quiet. “If it’s like that, don’t marry him,” he said. “There must be some way -- “

All at once she was shushing him, gripping both of his arms, her head bowed forward. “Don’t move.”

“What?”

“Bowtruckle.”

“Where?”

“Where do you think? It’s in my hair. I can feel it creeping around.” She shuddered, tipping her head up ever so slightly. “I’m about to scream. I am going to lose my mind if you don’t get it out. Lupin, help -- “

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” he said, twisting out of her hold and making a slow, sideways step behind her.

“Hurry -- “

“I am. Keep still.” Remus could see nothing in the thick sheaf of platinum hair falling down Narcissa’s back. Carefully, he closed his hands around it, feeling through its silky lengths for the thing clambering inside it. “I can’t feel it, so it can’t be very big,” he said, meaning to reassure her.

She jumped. “You can’t see it? It’s still there. I can feel it. I swear -- oh, get it out!”

He hushed her, a stuttering, almost whistling sound like he’d use to signal for Padfoot to behave. Her shoulders were heaving and trembling as she held her panic back. Remus lifted her hair to inspect the bottom layer of it. There it was, a long, thin Bowtruckle, like a stick insect only oversized and inclined to claw people’s eyes out when perturbed. 

“Here we are,” Remus said, crooning, gentle.

“Get it, get it,” she whispered, holding open the bag Professor Grubbly-Plank had distributed to collect the creatures.

With delicate fingers, Remus untangled Narcissa’s hair from the Bowtruckles hooked hands. “There we have it,” he said, reaching around her to drop the creature into the bag.

She let out her breath as she clamped it closed. “Thank the stars.”

He chuckled as he let her hair down, easing it back against her neck, indulging the edge of one finger in grazing her skin.

She spun around, catching his hand, pressing it to the side of her neck, half hidden in her hair. “It’s not that I’m scared of creatures,” she explained. “I just can’t abide anything alive in my hair.”

“Alright then,” he said, pulling at the hand she held.

“Wait,” she said. “Leave it one more moment. It calms me down. Touching. Touching you.”

Remus’s throat was dry, difficult to speak through. “Maybe, but it has quite the opposite effect on me.”

This was it, the remark that succeeded, at long last, in drawing a blush from her. She let Remus's fingers slide out of hers. But he'd already felt her pulse surge in her throat against his palm. It tuned him in to her heartbeat, so strong he could hear it, faint in Moony's wolf ears after she let him go.

The bag in her other hand twisted in her hold, the Bowtruckle eager to escape. She pointed behind herself, back in the direction of Professor Grubbly-Plank. “I’ll go turn this in.”

“Right,” he said. He stooped to the ground again, going through the motions of looking for another Bowtruckle. It was too late for that. Class was almost over, and even if it wasn’t, how could Narcissa come back to work with him, facing him again after he’d said -- whatever mad thing he’d just said?

Now that she had a respectable head start, he stood up to walk back, watching her moving ahead of him. Always ahead of him.

\-----------------------------------------

Later that night, while James sat with the lads in the common room, Lily went to the Potters’ manor to meet with Effie Potter alone for the first time. They were in Effie’s private quarters, the beds and tables strewn with gowns. “I’m old enough to know some Muggle traditions,” she said. “And you don’t want Jimsy to see you in your finery until you’re marching up to marry him. Isn’t that right?”

Lily smiled, still a little self conscious about standing on the rug in James’s mother’s room dressed only in a thin ivory slip. She hugged her own bare freckled arms. “Yes, that is how it’s usually done.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Now what would you like for a dress?” Effie said, pawing at the mounds of white satin and lace all around them. “I had the shop send up a little bit of everything for you to try.”

Lily scanned the room full of dresses, overwhelmed. “Oh, I’m not sure.”

“What did your mother wear to her wedding, dear?”

It seemed like an odd place to start, but Lily swallowed and said. “She dreamed of dressing up like Grace Kelly. But then they got pregnant with my older sister. So she just borrowed a dress from a friend. I never saw it in real life. Just in pictures. It had a boat neck and a wide skirt a little longer than her knees. She was so young, and so beautiful, it didn't matter what she wore.”

“As it will be for you,” Effie said, patting her hand. “Now, how about this one? The girls from the shop said you'd like it. Very trendy.”

Lily sighed. “It is. It looks just like my sister’s wedding gown.”

Without saying anything more, Effie pursed her lips and produced a different dress, one with a high empire waistline, snugged just under the bust.

“It’s lovely, but what if someone sees the picture and mistakes me for pregnant in it?” Lily said. "They're all going to assume I am anyway. It would be nice to defy their gossip rather than encourage it."

“So there is no baby yet?” Effie asked as Lily's eyes widened. “The stars say it's still too soon," Effie went on, "but from time to time, the stars can’t be trusted in these things, as they couldn’t be trusted for Monty and me when our Jimsy came.”

Lily was shaking her head. “Oh no,” she said. “No, James and I -- we’ve never. It’s not like that for us -- yet.”

“Of course, dear,” Effie said, not sounding particularly convinced. “Well, I do believe I know just the dress. The perfect opposite of a high waist.”

She held up a dress curving like an hourglass through the bust and waist before bursting into a low, full skirt, like a mermaid's tail. 

"James would like it. But it's a bit too dramatic for me," Lily said.

"Then I don't imagine you'd care much for this one," Effie said, struggling even to hold a massive tulle ballroom skirt topped with a high-necked lace bodice with puffed sleeves.

“Maybe if I was taller,” Lily said.

“Well, there's nothing for it but to try this one,” Effie said.

Lily stepped into the next dress. Effie eased the sleeves over her shoulders and got to work on the long row of tiny buttons in the back. Lily turned to the mirror. “The Great Gatsby,” she said.

“Hmm? What’s that dear?”

“This sheer organza, with the silk V-neck shift underneath it,” she twisted to see her profile. “And the little sleeves, and the way the bodice falls to bit of a dropped waist, and then blooms into this lovely flared skirt. And this delicate cape hung from the shoulders -- it’s like something from the 1920s.”

“Yes, exactly. It was already an antique dress when we bought it,” Effie said. “It’s mine.”

Lily gasped. “Yours? Madam Potter, you should have told me. What if I’d said something awful about it?”

Effie laughed. “Then I would have brought you another dress without a word. I didn’t want to pressure you, dear. You shouldn’t have to worry about my feelings when choosing your own wedding dress.” She was rifling through a jewelry box now. “Since you’re enjoying it, try it with these. They’re meant to be worn together.”

She held up a choker, tiny diamonds all the way around. “A wedding gift from Monty. Wear it while you can, sweetheart. As we grow old, that nice taut skin on the neck is the first thing to go.”

Lily lifted her hair as Effie clasped the necklace behind her. When she was finished, she steered Lily to the full-length mirror as she marveled at the beading on the lower edge of the bodice. “There you are, dear.”

Lily stared breathlessly at her reflection. “It’s nothing like I imagined for my wedding. And it’s perfect.”

Effie stood at her shoulder, gathering Lily’s hair in her hands. "We'll need something for your head. Not a veil. Can you let James’s old mother have that? No veil. It’s too much like a shroud." 

In the mirror, Lily thought she saw a shiver run through Effie's shoulders. She was still thinking of it as she stood on a stool as Effie's wand marked the hemline for the skirt. She didn't want to ask, but she had to.

“Madam Potter?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Why is it that so many people take the news of our wedding as if it’s sad? I understand we’re very young, and it is rather grim that we live in a world where James and I need each other to be safe. But,” she paused, “but I love James. I want him for my husband. Finding a soulmate is what everyone wishes for newlyweds, isn’t it? So why does everyone feel sad for us?”

Effie straightened up from watching the hemming, her hand in the small of her back, her face pained. “There is more magic you may need to stay safe,” she said. “Obscure, controversial magic I don’t know myself. But I will obtain a book on it for you. A rare one. I’ll ask James’s godmother, Bathilda, to make hers a wedding present to you. Learn it, my sweetheart girl. That’s the best I can do.”

————

Lily wasn’t the only one away from Hogwarts that night, visiting a parent. Remus was in Cardiff fetching his mother’s Muggle camera for James’s wedding. She sat next to him on the sofa, patiently explaining how to use the contraption as he nodded and looked very worried about the whole thing.

“And when you’re finished -- this is very important, Remus. You could ruin everything if you open -- ” she stopped mid-sentence. “You know what, just bring it back to me when you’re finished. But that means you can take only twenty-four pictures. Mind the counter on the back, and be careful. Especially if what you’re photographing is something important. Is it?”

Remus heaved his huge sigh, the one he learned from his father.

“It is important,” Hope concluded.

Remus Lupin was never anything but forthcoming with his mother, and as always, he told her everything. “It is. James is getting married.” 

‘What? At eighteen? And still in school?”

“Yes, Mum. There’s a bad movement afoot in the magical world -- “

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yes, and James’s contribution to stopping it is to marry his soulmate.”

Hope clucked her tongue. “We should all be so lucky. But how does that help?”

“I’m not sure, Mum. It’s Professor Dumbledore’s idea,” he said. “It can’t be too far off.”

She clucked again. “Honestly, the trust you people put in that character. I don’t always understand it. And why do wizards all want to get married so young?”

“You’re one to talk,” Remus smirked. “You and Dad had a quick engagement, and me right away.”

She shifted in her seat on the sofa next to him. “That was different. That was your father. He’s -- “

“Just like the rest of us,” Remus finished, laughing gently at her.

She batted at his arm. “The rest of them except for my son, the werewolf monk, forsworn to a life of study and chastity.”

Anyone else might have missed it, but a tiny wince flitted over Remus’s expression as she teased him. She was suddenly serious. “Unless I’m much mistaken, that is.” She paused, giving him time to protest. When he didn’t she poked a finger into his side. “What’s happened, Remus?”

“Hardly anything, Mum.”

“That’s not nothing,” she pounced. “And I was joking, of course, about you spending your life alone. For years I’ve been thinking you and Sirius -- he can handle you at your worst, and as for the social stigma of two men -- well, it’s a controversial lifestyle, but more accepted than ever right now.“

“Mum, please,” he said, his head in his hands.

She sat back, waiting. “You can tell me, darling. You’d better tell me.”

He began, still slumped forward, his elbows on his knees. “I do adore Sirius. No one’s a greater comfort to me. And I’ve had the thought of us together too, as a long shot. But then -- “ His head sank into his hands again.

Hope sat closer, linking her arm through his, still waiting.

“Mum, there’s a girl,” he said. “And what I feel for her, with just a look or a word from her -- I didn’t know that kind of thing existed. I wish I still didn’t know.”

“Darling, darling,” Hope was saying. “This isn’t sad. This is wonderful. You’ve had an awakening, just as I thought none was ever coming.”

“I don’t want it, Mum. I wanted to live alone, cuddle with my animagus best friend once in a while, and count my life successful if I'm able to get through it without ever eating anyone alive.”

She let him talk, rubbing his back as if to help him get it all out.

“And then this girl at school, Sirius’s estranged cousin who I’ve known for ages, one day she tells me she has creature magic too and from there -- “ He stopped to rake his hands through his hair. “She’s seen me transformed, Mum. And I didn’t hurt her. My werewolf -- he’d never hurt her. He liked her before I did. And how could we not like her? She’s smart and witty and interesting and tragic and -- stars, Mum, she’s so beautiful.”

Hope rested her chin on his shoulder. “Of course she is, darling. What is the problem? Does she not like you?”

He sat up. “I think she might. She definitely likes Moony, at any rate.”

“Stop,” Hope said. “You’ve got to stop talking as if there are two of you. Moony -- don’t say that name. I’ve always said, the best hope you have for overcoming this curse, or whatever it is, is to find a place where you can meet the werewolf and control him, become one with him, master of his violence and urges. Everything your world does to try to control this condition involves separating the two sides of you, moving them farther and farther apart. No one listens to a mere Muggle, but as your mother I’m entitled to some inspiration, and I’ve always felt you need to run into the werewolf, not away from him. And if this cousin of Sirius’s -- “

“Stop, Mum,” Remus moaned. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s engaged, alright?” he said, nearly shouting. “She’s from an old, evil, aristocratic family that’s already signed her over to someone else. It will be an arranged marriage to a man she doesn’t trust. If she leaves, they’ll disinherit her, and she’ll be left with nothing but me, corrupt and listed on the werewolf registry, educated but unable to make a living, dragging her down to my level, and ruining her.”

Hope sat back, rubbing at her eyes, determined not to let him sense her tears. “You don’t get to decide what this woman does with her future, Remus John Lupin,” she said. “I can’t tell you what to do with yours either. But don’t treat this girl like her father has. Whatever has been happening between you, let it finish happening. Let her decide if she’ll love you. Be your beautiful self, all of your selves, and let yourself wait for her, if that’s what you want.”

As he came back to the school, after a cup of tea and an uneventful chat with his late-arriving Dad, Remus wasn’t sure if he felt any better. He felt different -- raw, needing something, but he wasn’t sure what. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in the Gryffindor common room where James sat in an armchair, nose to nose with Lily, and Peter sat at a chess board, sulking over his remaining pieces as Frank Longbottom enjoyed some astounding beginner’s luck.

“Winning already? Why is it always you, Longbottom?” someone observed as he took Peter’s last rook.

Remus didn’t have the nerves for any of it and made for the stairs to their room. He opened the door, and there, stretching on the rug, just getting up as if he’d been listening for Remus’s footfalls was Padfoot.

Remus sunk to his knees on the rug. “They say you’re James’s best friend. And they may be right, but you’re mine too.” He took the dog’s face in his hands, scratching the underside of his chin as he leaned his forehead against the ridge over Padfoot’s eyes. “You’re mine more. And I know you do what you do because you love me. Whether you're right or wrong, you love me.”

Padfoot seldom did it, but his pink tongue flicked out from between his jaws and laved Remus’s cheek. Remus grinned and wiped his face dry and hugged Padfoot around the neck. “Yes, there’s a good lad.”

\----------------------------------

That night, James and Lily were the last to leave the common room. They were speculating about what Professor McGonagall would show them the following afternoon, when they met to see where they’d be living together after the wedding.

“I wonder if, after that, it will finally feel real,” James was saying.

Lily huffed. “Just wait until you’re the one spending an evening trying on wedding clothes. Wait until you see yourself dressed up as Mr. Lily Evans.”

He laughed against her throat. It would never fail to make her shiver.

“This book from your godmother though,” Lily pressed on. “I wish your mum had just told me the title. I’d go downstairs and look it up myself.”

“You don’t know Bathilda,” James said. “She’s got books no one else has ever seen, let alone read. Old, rare books Pince would give her wand hand for.”

“Grisly,” Lily frowned.

“All I’m saying is that we’ll have to wait to see what Auntie Bathilda’s got,” James said. “And as for the gloominess around our wedding, I’m too happy to let it touch me.”

Lily kissed his forehead, smoothing his eyebrows and pushing his hair back into the mess on top of his head. “I have a sense,” she said. “Maybe it’s a gift of seership, but I can usually tell when something is a mistake. There’s this dread that comes over me. And I have none of that when I think of our wedding. No matter what anyone else feels, for me, I sense only hope, like something vast is opening in front of us, and everything we ever wanted is in it.”

At first, Lily thought James had coughed. But as she looked at him, she saw that he was fighting not to cry. “James?”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m not a seer, not on my own. But I know just what you mean.”

They fell to whispering then, words spoken between kisses, words that look trite when written, but sound whole and true when spoken right, and to the right person.


	15. Fifteen

Three days before their wedding, James and Lily were excused from charms class to meet Professor McGonagall in the deserted Gryffindor common room. As they waited, James opened the map to muse over the possibilities of where in the school they might be assigned to live as the school’s only married student couple. 

“Lots of nooks and crannies,” he said. “But nothing of much size unless you want to stay in a converted classroom.”

Lily laughed. “Every girl’s dream. A honeymoon in a Hogwarts classroom.”

James grimaced as he refolded the map and stashed it in his robes. “Sorry, love. We’ll go somewhere nice for Easter holidays maybe.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s cram time for NEWTs.”

He dropped his chin on the crown of her head. “After graduation then, in the summertime. We’ll go somewhere far away.”

She sighed. “Just a flat of our own somewhere -- London, Godric’s Hollow, flaming Cokeworth -- something as simple as that sounds like a dazzling future together to me right now.”

They stepped apart as McGonagall came through the portrait hole, somehow managing to look dignified and stately as ever as she did so. “There you are. Ready? Good.” Her keen cat-like eyes swept the room for eavesdroppers. “Right this way.”

She led them to the base of the boys’ dormitory steps. “All the way up,” she said, waving them ahead of her. “The pinnacle of Gryffindor Tower is a disused attic that runs over the tops of both the boys’ and girls’ dormitories.”

“But it's sealed up,” James said, coming dangerously close to revealing too much about the map. 

“Indeed,” McGonagall said, her eyebrows raised. “To prevent travel back and forth between the dormitories, the area has been closed off for centuries. But it seems a fitting place for the pair of you. A secure middle ground within your own house.”

They had arrived at the top of the stairs, past the last level of rooms, at a doorway low enough that James would have to duck his head to get beyond it. The wood it was made of was dark and rough, studded with metal bolts, like the entrance to a working dungeon. McGonagall flourished her wand and spoke a password. “Nuptials.”

The massive door floated open, soundlessly. Inside, the lofty space was a curious combination of spacious and close. McGonagall fanned away the dust motes hanging in the sunbeam in front of her face. “I assure you it has been thoroughly cleaned, but hundreds of years of dust will take some time to settle.”

Lily had hardly noticed, standing in the centre of the floor, looking up to where the peak of the tower came to a single, high point in the shadows above. 

"There's a fireplace, but I'm afraid the ceiling’s height will make it difficult to keep warm," McGonagall said.

James was at the window, gazing down at the quidditch pitch, the forest -- everything. “Professor, it’s amazing.”

“Well, good,” McGonagall said, “since it’s your only option.”

Lily stepped to the bed, testing the mattress with one hand. At the sound of the slightest creak of a bedspring, James spun around. Professor McGonagall did not miss the look that passed between them. 

She cleared her throat. “You are well aware of the school’s chastity charms,” she said. “You will find that once you are lawfully married, relations between you within the school will no longer be prohibited as unchaste. At that point you may -- live together naturally here. But you must be discreet.”

James was nodding, his cheeks slightly pinker than usual. Lily kept her eyes fixed on the Gryffindor red coverlet on the bed. 

“As the headmaster will have told you,” McGonagall went on, “news of a pair of students being married will be disruptive to the school. For that reason, this space will be known as Miss Evans’s Head Girl quarters, an honour awarded for her superior performance. As far as anyone but Mr. Potter’s roommates will know, he will continue to live downstairs. Using the Invisibility Cloak to come here would be wise. Don’t look so shocked, Potter. Of course we know you’ve had one all these years. Now, have you any questions?”

Lily had gone to the window, next to James, where they looked out at the slowly greening landscape far below. “It’s wonderful, Professor,” she said. “Thank you.”

With the students’ backs to her, McGonagall allowed herself one satisfied bounce on her heels. “It is, isn’t it? Come along now, you can’t be up here again until Saturday evening, when you'll arrive as husband and wife.”

Their instructions were to hurry off to join charms class late. They veered in the opposite direction of McGonagall, not even holding hands as they rounded a corner, out of her sight. As they turned, James caught Lily’s wrist and scuffed to a halt. She stopped as well. “What is it?”

His expression was intense as he pulled her into him. “It’s real, isn’t it?” he said, his lips against her temple. “There is a space, just for us.” He had kissed down, slow, dewy pressure at one end of her jaw. “I’m going to marry you and take you to that room,” he said against her throat, “and that door will close behind us and -- “

She turned her head to catch his mouth with hers, newly hungry for him. Yes, she felt it too. They’d seen their first home together, secret and sparse, just a passage between two stairwells with a bathroom, fire, and a bed in it, really. But the fact that it existed meant getting married wasn’t a daydream, not just a fancy dress party they were preparing. They were going to live together for the rest of their lives. His hand was inside her jumper, at her waist, his fingertips hot through the cotton of her shirt. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but this afternoon, something about it made her knees weak, and she slumped against him. His posture drooped with hers, straightening up again, holding her closer. Her fingers splayed over the swell of his chest.

“Charms,” she said, breaking away. “”If McGonagall sees we’ve missed charms, she’ll know it’s come to -- to this. And she’s been so nice to us -- ”

“Right,” he whispered, breathless himself.

“But I am sorry for what I said about our honeymoon,” she said. “It sounded like I was complaining, but I’m not. I just want to be yours. It doesn’t matter where.”

He twisted them from side to side as he hugged her. “Good. Because, right now, it’s all we can have.”

\--------------------------------

That evening, it was the lads' turn to go to the Potters’ manor to settle their wedding clothes. Their attire was nearly identical, serious black, they were calling it, with elaborate old-fashioned white ties that looped and knotted in spectacularly intricate ways around their collars and down their fronts. 

Dressing alike played up how different they all looked. Peter, short and stocky, his eyes darting, as if hopelessly distracted by the fancy details of the new clothes. Remus was tall and rather stately in his, so very thin, the white of his shirt playing up the lingering redness of the scars on his face. Sirius was lean and strong with long, dark waves of hair falling over his high collar. And James, out of a school uniform, dressed in something other than a quidditch team T-shirt, in his glasses with his hair arranged more smoothly than usual, he looked older, like he might be able to pose as someone’s husband.

Effie had left Monty to oversee the event. It was a purely honorary role, with two tailors who’d come from town showing the lads how to dress properly, and altering everything to fit perfectly. In practical terms, Monty had no greater role than giving the lads permission to open a few bottles from the liquor collection before dozing off over his brandy.

“There’s no one better to dress than young people,” the tailor wizard called Renz said. “Schoolboys, you’re all so perfect. Even this twitchy little one who won’t keep his hands down. Perfect.”

“Yes, will you look at these lines,” Renz’s co-tailor Toby said, pinching the fabric falling from Remus’s shoulders. “This one is so grandly tall, and the angles on him. He’s a perfect mannequin.”

“He is?” Sirius said.

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” Renz said, poking Sirius’s shoulder with the tip of his wand. “You’re still the pretty one. Yes, flip that hair again.”

Sirius happily obliged.

Renz had turned back to James, tugging hard at his sleeve. “For stars' sake, someone get our groom another drink. He’s so stiff I can hardly mark him up.”

James rolled his shoulders and shook out his fingers. “Sorry.”

"No need to be sorry. Poor lamb, off to be married already. How old are you, anyway?" Toby said, filling a little glass not meant to be filled so high.

"It's legal," was all James said, stiffening again.

Toby rolled his eyes so hard his voice sounded. 

James had taken the glass from him and raised it to his face when the alcohol vapor hit him, burning his nose like a potions class accident. “No, not for me,” James said. “I’ve got double Arithmancy with Lily first thing in the morning. Need to stay sharp.”

Toby groaned. “Arithmancy, oh yes, you'll need to use that every day of your adult life." With a spin and a slight slosh of the drink, he was facing the rest of the room. "Well someone’s got to drink this, now it’s poured. Not me, I’m on the clock, sadly,” he said, licking the spilled liquor from his fingers. “Oh my. Yes, it’d be a crime to waste good stuff like this. What is it, Mr. Potter, three hundred years old? Aged in hollowed out Leviathan horns? Must have cost a fortune, eh Mr. Potter?”

Monty snored and settled deeper into his armchair.

“Give it to slim, there,” Renz said, nodding at Remus. “He's grown enough to be able to hold it.”

Toby passed the glass to Remus who eyed it warily. From across the room, Sirius gave him a thumbs-up signal. So he shrugged and he swallowed it down before realizing how badly it would burn. Toby beat him on the back as he coughed.

The lads had drunk enough to have to go back to school through the Floo instead of risking apparating. Sirius and James arrived in the empty Entrance Hall red in the face and loud. Peter was beyond that, extremely silly, chattering and threatening to transform and go on a skittering rampage all over the school. Sirius and James were shouting him down, making much more noise than he had been. They wound up having to hold him by the arms, forcibly leading him to the stairs. 

They had thought Remus was following, but he was drunker than they knew. He was quiet and happy, but finding his long legs and arms impossibly complicated and hard to manage. As he came to the bottom of the staircase, he wasn’t sure how to get them to climb it, so he stood clinging to the cold marble bannister, staring up toward where he could go to sleep rather longingly. 

This was what he was doing when Severus Snape and Narcissa Black found him. They were coming back to the Slytherin dungeons late after a night in the library, not expecting to see anyone -- certainly not seventh year’s most upstanding prefect.

“Well, well,” Snape sneered. “It’s Lupin, legless, and roving about down here at the stroke of curfew.”

Narcissa clucked her tongue. “By the stars, Lupin. What are you thinking? It’s a school night."

At the sound of her voice, he gasped, like a stage actor hamming an aside. “It’s her,” he said out loud as he pushed himself against the bannister to stand a little straighter.

Snape’s features bent into a greedy smirk. “Yes, stay here with her while I fetch Professor Slughorn to help you upstairs,” Snape said, swooping away.

Narcissa heaved a mighty sigh and took Remus’s arm, tugging. “Come on, you. We’ve got to get you out of here before Snape gets back with a teacher and you lose your prefect status.”

He let her pull his arm until it was fully extended, but his feet stayed rooted to the bottom step. His eyes followed the length of his sleeve. "Look at the perfect mannequin."

“Honestly, Lupin,” she scolded, ignoring his words, draping his arm over her shoulders and wrapping her arms around his torso, pulling upward, hoping to trigger his stair climbing muscle memory. "Come on. Slughorn will be slow, but he’s still coming for you."

He bent his head to stare down at her, curious. His face drooped against the top of her head, inhaling deeply, making no attempt at hiding how much he enjoyed her smell. "Mm, she's here."

"Yes, but I'm going to give up and leave if you don't come with me right now," she said, the movement of her head dislodging his face from her hair. 

He grumbled but he also began to lift his feet.

"There we go," she said. "There's a good prat. Stars, Lupin. What've you got into tonight. Where were you?"

"Potters'" he said. "Fitting. Clothes for James's wedding."

"James's wedding?" she said. "What -- ”

But Remus had taken her face in both hands, hushing her. “Don’t speak of it. You don't know. No one can know.”

They had reached the top of the first flight of stairs before he’d taken hold of her face. They stood there now, his eyes hooded but focused on her. He was speaking. “Does it truly calm you down, when I touch you? That’s what you said, after the Bowtruckle, in the forest." His hands repositioned themselves on her face, pushing her hair back, cradling her cheeks, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. 

Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth slipped open, her breath catching, not calming down in the least. "What are you on about?" she managed to say. She meant to sound sharp, annoyed at this drunken candor. But her voice was small and too full of breath. 

Still holding his torso, she shook her head out of his hands and walked him across the corridor, to the moving staircase leading to Gryffindor tower.

"Your heartbeat," he was saying. "Since that day in the forest, I've been able to hear it when you’re close, like now. Soft, below everything else."

Her pulse surged as he said this, and maybe it was just a coincidence that as it did, Remus's chest rumbled with laughter. But her answer was a scoff. "That's ridiculous," she said. "Think about it, Lupin. It’s not like you're hearing it right now."

His arm crossed in front of himself, his hand finding her shoulder, long fingers pointing down her back, and the heel of his hand over a pulse, high on her chest, almost at her heart itself. He sang it's rhythm into the top of her head. 

“Da dum da dum da dum…” 

And in her ears, below Remus’s voice, she heard the sound of his heart, low and lazy with drunkness.

"How are you doing that?" she said. "I'd expect it from Moony but -- ”

His head snapped up. “I am Moony. Remus and Moony. Lupin, like you call me. Both. I am always both of them, when there's you.”

It was rambling madness, not at all a confession. But it felt like one all the same. Narcissa stood under Remus’s arm, his hand on her shoulder, shocked, confused. 

But he himself was distracted. “Why aren't the stairs moving?"

She shook herself. "Oh, that must be me. Maybe they don't let Slytherins up after curfew."

Remus fumbled for his wand.

“Lupin, no. No wands when you’re -- “

But he was already waving it at the stairs. "Let the girl up-io,” he called.

She laughed, but to her surprise, it worked. The stone was grating its way toward the tower entrance. Stupid Gryffindor spells.

At the sound of her laughter, he was looking at her again, at her real, not smug, not sly smile in the torchlight. It lit her usually white skin with a golden glow. In the low light her eyes were dark and sparkling. Her hands were on him, the contours of her body pressed into his side, tucked under his arm, warm and soft, as if she was loveable, even for him.

But it wasn’t true -- not true enough. It was cruel and it changed everything -- his posture, his expression, his voice as he groaned, as if suffering, and closed both his arms around her, turning her from being at his side to his front, standing face to face. He reeked of expensive liquor but she was turning her face up to his all the same. 

“It’s not right,” he said, in that sad, aching voice. “You can’t be his, when I'm yours.”

Her lips parted in a sudden gasp before his arms crushed her into him, her face buried in his shoulder. She turned so her breath was warm against his neck. She wanted her mouth on him, and not her fanged Veela mouth on his werewolf pelt. She wanted him as he was, as she was at this moment, both of them abandoning everything in a kiss that would tear up their hearts. But no, he was drunk. She couldn't -- no matter how tortured and sweet he was, even if Malfoy never existed, she couldn’t when he was like this.

There was no answer she could make, nothing to do but hold tight to him, her hands flat and open, caressing his lean back as he swayed on the moving steps, his voice miserable, echoing her heartbeat over her ear.

There was a thud and grind as the stairs locked into place. Remus’s grip slackened and she stood out of his way, beside him, bracing him for the rest of the climb. As they reached the top of the stairs, a portrait was swinging open and ruddy-faced James and Sirius was clambering out, shouting with relief when they saw Remus nearly there.

“Quickly,” Narcissus said as she piled his limp, lanky arms onto Sirius. “Get him in. Snape and Slughorn should be right behind us.”

——----------

Without three hundred year old whiskey, Lily’s hen night was much tamer. It was meant to be a going away party from the girls in her dorm before she moved up to private quarters in the attic on Saturday night. Of the girls there, Marlene was the only one who knew anything about it being a send off for a wedding, or so Lily thought until Alice kissed her cheek and whispered her congratulations.

“Alice, it was supposed to be a surprise that you’ll be there too,” Marlene scolded. “You may as well know now, Lily, that Madam Potter has gone and invited the entire Order to your -- erm, party.”

“She what?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I told. I couldn’t help myself. It's just too exciting,” Alice laughed.

Marlene huffed. “Exciting for you because, once they're done, you’ll get to marry your soulmate next.”

“You don't say,” Lily marveled. “You and Frank? Actually soulmates? And soon to be...”

“Yes,” Alice said. “It’ll happen this summer, right after school. We’re the other pair of soulmates from the prophecy.”

Lily sprang to her feet. “Prophecy? What prophecy?" She had nearly shouted the question, drawing the eyes of all the girls in the common room.

Marlene forced a laugh and waved it off, pulling Lily back to sitting. "Right. So do you mean to say you've come this far and you've never been properly told about the prophecy? Honestly, Evans, who is your Order handler?"

Lily shrugged. "Dumbledore, I suppose."

Marlene groaned while Alice said, "That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why you don't know anything," Alice said. "Dumbledore is notorious for that. You need someone like Frank’s mum to get fed up and tell you everything.” 

“Look,” Marlene said, “there's this prophecy from ages ago that says when a Dark Lord arises, if you'll pardon the expression, two pairs of soulmates will appear. And between them, a chosen one will be born who will turn the evil back.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Alice said.

Lily blinked. “Well, James’s parents put together the chosen one bit for us. But they didn’t seem that happy about it. The word ‘amazing’ was certainly never used.”

Alice hung her head. “Well, amazing things can still be -- terribly difficult.” She and Marlene exchanged a troubled glance. 

Lily failed to notice it. “So it could well be that all this time, James and me might have just been a red herring to throw Tom Riddle off Frank and Alice’s trail?"

Marlene slapped her on the back. "Don't sound so disappointed. You got a soulmate out of the bargain even if you don’t get to save the world."

"And I think the stronger possibility is that we have been a cover for you," Alice said. "I mean, you two are the ones he attacked on the road to Hogsmeade. I don't think he's noticed us at all."

Lily hummed. "That attack wasn't about being soulmates, that was the ma -- something else,” she finished. “James had his own secrets.”

“Don’t we all,” Marlene intoned. 

“Well, I’m glad you know about us now, even if it’s late. For us, knowing there was another possible pair was part of why we agreed to it,” Alice said. “Just half the chance. Though I rather wish it was strangers. I will feel sorry if it turns out it’s the pair of you who has the chosen one and ends up -- well…”

Marlene hung her head now. “Alice, really…”

“Ends up what?” Lily said.

“No, Marlene’s right. I shouldn’t have. Not the night before...“ Alice said. “You should know, but it would have been better if it didn’t come from me.”

Lily threw her hands up. “What is it, Alice? It has to come from somewhere, and at this point, I don’t much care where. No one’s telling us anything. I asked Madam Potter why Mr. Potter nearly bursts into tears every time he has to talk about our wedding, and all she did was promise to get me a book of some new magic to learn. But that tells me nothing.”

Alice swallowed hard, her head bobbing. “Alright,” she said. “But remember. I knew all of this before agreeing to it and I chose it anyway. I chose Frank. And I always will. I chose not to slog through a long, empty life with my soul half gone, as it would be if I had left him as soon as I knew what was required.”

Lily blinked, her mouth dry, already stunned. “Please, Alice, what is required?”

But Alice’s eyes were glossing over with tears that were sure to fall if she said another word.

Marlene took a deep breath. “The chosen one’s parents will have to face the Dark Lord along with their child. If they don’t, the child will fail and die themself. But we all know what happens to people who face Dark Lords.”

Alice was talking again now, tears on her cheeks, but racing through an argument she knew by heart. “Now Lily, there are many ways to read the prophecy. Frank’s mum keeps saying that. She’s working on it. The whole Order is. If we know it’s coming, we can do something. Augusta loves Frank more than anything. She wouldn’t mindlessly sacrifice him. No, she believes we can do this and not have to die.”

Lily’s face was white. “Die?”

“No, you heard her,” Marlene said, catching Lily’s hand and squeezing it. “No one in the Order accepts that as inevitable yet. We’re all working on a way around it. There’s still time. There’s still hope.”

Lily pulled her hand free. “Die? If we get married, James might die?”

“We’re all going to die someday,” Alice said. “We may as well die together, and it may as well be for something wonderful.”

Lily was rising slowly to her feet. “Not James,” was all she said.

Marlene and Alice watched her go, leaving her own party, climbing the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. 

There was no light from under the door to the lads’ room so Lily let herself in, quietly, without knocking. The curtains were open around James’s bed, and she could see him sleeping, flawless and childlike in the dimness, peaceful on the last night before his wedding was supposed to happen.

She shook him awake, whispering. “It’s me.”

He jolted beneath his blankets, groping for his glasses. “Lily?”

“Yes, get up. I found something out. We need to talk about it,” she said, her voice cracking with tears.

Instead of getting up, James pulled her into his narrow dormitory bed with him, flicking the curtains closed on all sides. He wrapped his blankets around her, folding her into the warmth and softness of his sleepiness. “What is it?” he was saying. “Talk to me.”

But she wouldn’t speak, not even in the close privacy of the near total darkness of his curtained bed. They lay on their sides, facing each other, clinging to each other, but she kept her face hidden in his t-shirt, over his heart, feeling the strong, living thud of its beating against her lips and cheek.

He waited, stroking her hair as her quiet sobs shook her. After a few minutes, her hand moved underneath the hem of his shirt, her palm trailing over his skin, searching for his heartbeat, keeping her connected to it as she leaned away to speak.

“I don’t want you to die,” she said.

He kissed her forehead. “I’m not dying,” he said. “I will die, but no time soon. And I don’t want you dying either. If we’re lucky, we can go together.”

He meant it to be reassuring but it set her shivering, turning onto her other side, her back against his front. “I found something out,” she said again. “Tonight, from Alice. She and Frank -- they’re a lot like us…” She told him the rest -- about the other prophecy, and the fate of the chosen one’s parents.

From behind, James settled his face into the curve of her shoulder. “You didn’t come up here to try to save my life by calling off the wedding, did you?”

She turned to face him, eyes wide but dry now. She blinked at him, not yet ready to speak.

“It was the first thing to occur to me,” he said, pushing her hair behind her ear. “That I had to do whatever it took to protect you from this. But then, there’s our prophecy. The one that says I’m never to leave you.”

“Oh,” she said, finally speaking. “Our prophecy. I hadn’t thought of it.”

“Yes, our prophecy. It’s not some story we heard about secondhand at a party,” James said. “It’s the one we spoke to each other, with our own voices, the moment we came together.”

“Sealed up in an orb only we can touch,” she finished. “And it says to stay with you, even if there’s not much time.”

He found her hand clenched in the fabric on the outside of his shirt now, eased it free, and kissed it. “Don’t call it off, Lily. I mean, do it for yourself, if that’s what you want. Mum said you could refuse the prophecy if you wanted. But don’t call it off just for me. I’ll never leave. Let’s do what the rest of them are doing for Frank and Alice, and look for a way around what seems to be our fate. Let’s see what Aunt Bathilda’s books says. We’ll start there.”

“And let’s do whatever we must to never be apart. Whatever,” she said, her voice breaking into tears again, “whatever that turns out to be.”

James let out his breath, relieved, energized to fight for her, more in love than ever. He kissed her wet cheeks, her chin, and as he reached her mouth, he rolled himself on top of her. With one hand, she held his head, her fingers in his hair, her back arching against his mattress, her knees on either side of his hips. Her other hand was inside his shirt again, fingers curled into the patch of dark hair at the centre of his chest.

He pulled away, slipping out from between her knees, onto his side again. “I’ll behave,” he said. “I won’t trip the chastity alarms. I promise. But stay here all night with me, Lily. I can’t bear to waste any more of our time being without you.”

She smoothed his hair and kissed him again. There was so much longing between them it was soon heated and James had to throw himself off of her again. “Pardon me,” he said, nestling side by side again. “See, I’m in control. Just stay. Please.”

She tipped her forehead against his chin. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

“But I want to watch you sleep.”

“Well, you won’t,” she said with a gentle laugh. “Not tonight.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll settle for staying with you until you’re not so sad anymore.”

In the darkness, she traced his eyebrow with her forefinger. “Maybe a little longer than that.”

\------------------------------------

Far below Gryffindor Tower, in the Slytherin dungeon, Severus Snape sat up late over his Divination homework. Coming into the class late in the year had been a mistake and a waste. He was getting nowhere trying to convince Lily to join the movement, and the work was fuzzy and impossible to perfect. He crumpled another parchment and Vanished it from his desk.

“Make Evans help you with that,” Narcissa said, stretching and getting to her feet, finished her revisions for the night.

“Not available. She’s moving to new private Head Girl quarters tomorrow night so her dorm-mates are giving her a send off tonight,” he droned rearranging the pages of his key to tasseography.

Narcissa hummed. “Head Girl quarters, is it? I guess Potter won’t be jealous, since they might be roommates very soon.”

Severus cringed. “Not while they’re at school, they won’t be. That should give her enough time to snap out of it.”

She shrugged as she turned to leave. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Severus set his quill on the desk. “Wait. You know something.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell me, Narcissa. You owe me since you not only let Lupin get away from me the other night, but helped him on his way.“

“What an accusation, Severus.”

“You’re warming up to him,” he said. “That werewolf. That cursed, filthy, murderous monster, worse than a Mudblood.”

“That’s enough,” she said. 

Severus pinched his hair into place. “Lupin has told you something about Lily’s future. Something he knows from Potter.”

“Stop it.”

“He has, and you feel tenderly enough toward him to be protecting him now. It’s sickening. And if you don’t tell me what they’re hiding, this minute, I will have no choice but to contact Lucius and have him ask you what that werewolf said to you as you put him to bed.”

She shouted a laugh. “Why would Lucius or your Dark Lord or anyone but you give a care about rooting out Lily Evans’s secrets?”

Severus loomed to standing, coming closer to speak lower. “In his wisdom, the Dark Lord has made this couple his concern. Therefore, they become all of our concern. You don’t think I started this blasted Divination class as a final bid to realize a childhood infatuation, did you? No, I did it in the service of our Lord.” 

As he spoke, his eyes searched for hers. The air took on a dark, acidic tang.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, pivoting out of his view. “Don’t you dare try to turn your pathetic Legilimency on me, a daughter of the House of Black, you ungrateful, perverse -- “

“Fine,” he said, dropping his eyes. “But you must tell me what you learned from Lupin, or you WILL tell Lucius what you were doing with him, hiding from me in the castle yesterday night. I’m sure he’ll be most understanding -- ”

“They’re getting married,” she blurted. “Soon. Lupin had just come from being fitted for wedding clothes when we found him.”

“Wedding?” Severus nearly spat. “How soon?”

“I don’t know. But if Evans is getting her own quarters in the castle, I can’t imagine it will be much longer.” Narcissa swiped up her book bag from her desk by the window. “Now, that is all I know. And if you’ll promise to leave Lucius alone, I’ll be going to bed.”

She left him, sitting alone, glaring out at the black water.


	16. Sixteen

James woke up on his wedding day, alone in his narrow bed in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. The rest of the lads were still asleep, and he took a moment to prop himself on his elbows, find his glasses, and look at each of them in turn. He would never wake up here to the low rumble of Sirius’s dog-like snore again, or to the sight of Remus’s hand trailing on the floor, as if his arms were too long to fold up into the bed, or to the quaking mound of blankets where Peter slept curled into a ball. 

He had expected to feel sadder about it than he did, but...Lily. She hadn’t slipped out of his bed and back to the girls’ dormitory until after he’d fallen asleep. She had stayed until she was well past crying, and they’d grown quiet, content and peaceful. 

“James,” she’d whispered as he was just about asleep. “I want to tell you something else. Something good.”

His lips brushed her forehead. “What is it, love?”

“It’s another prophecy. About our child,” she’d said. “He’ll be a boy, with dark hair, like yours. And there’s something about his head, his forehead. A mark, like a birthmark.”

James had opened his eyes in the dark. “You saw him?”

“I think I did,” she’d nodded. “Or at least, I felt him so strongly it was the same as if I’d seen him. The morning you proposed, on the sofa in the prefects’ lounge. He was in my mind, like a sign of the question that was coming, and how I was supposed to answer it.”

James’s hold on her had tightened. “I owe him one then.” He kissed her for the final time that night. “Thanks, son.”

In his room now, James glanced at the clock. Lily had more to get ready and would be at the manor with Marlene and his mother already. Remus’s alarm clock was sounding and he was swiping at it as Sirius howled curses and Peter’s head poked out from beneath his blankets.

An hour later they were landing at the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall, about to leave through the Floos. For once, they didn’t want to attract attention to themselves. They were dressed in unremarkable weekend clothes, and they were uncharacteristically quiet as they approached the Floos. Remus was trying to hand out scones for everyone’s breakfast, but James was too nervous to eat. He left first, flaming out of sight calling “Potter manor” just as Severus Snape swooped up behind the lads.

“What are you doing, sneaking about this early in the morning?” Snape demanded.

“Who’s sneaking?” Peter said, his hand over his heart, spooked by Snape’s sudden appearance.

“Mind your own business,” Sirius said, shoving Peter toward the Floo. 

As Peter left, he whispered his destination into his hand.

“Too late for subtlety,” Snape said. “I’ve just heard where you’re going from Potter himself. You’re off to his estate. Now where is Lily?”

The lads didn’t blink. “No idea,” Remus said. “I’d check the Head Girl office, but maybe not until after breakfast.”

“I know what Potter has planned for her,” Snape said, his voice rising. “And I suspect I also know when. It’s today isn’t it?”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re so bothered about a senior student going home to visit his ailing parents on the weekend,” Remus said. “There’s nothing ominous here. Now move along.”

“Yeah, makes me wonder if it’s you there’s something wrong with,” Sirius added, nudging Remus toward the Floo. “You look sick, Snape. That’s for sure. Go get some tea and a shower and maybe you’ll feel better.”

Remus was gone and it was just the two of them, Sirius and Snape. Sirius smirked. “You’ve lost her for good, Snape,” he said. “Stop embarrassing yourself chasing after her and get on with your life.”

Snape was frantic enough to grab Sirius by the front of his jacket. “This is so much greater than you imagine, you nitwit. You will soon learn to respect the Dark Lord and his lieutenants -- “

“Please. You’re stalking a girl, not fighting a war -- “

Snape drew his wand but Sirius swept his foot beneath Snape’s robes, knocking him down at his ankles. “I don’t have any more time for this. And frankly, after seven years, it’s boring,” Sirius said, backing away from where Snape scuttled across the floor after his dropped wand. He shook his head, and disappeared into the Floo.

\---------------------------------

Effie’s fingers weren’t as nimble as they used to be, so she hired a witch to come from a salon in the city to do Lily’s hair. It was still the 1970s, so she wore it loose and long, brushed with a hundred strokes by Marlene before the hairdressing witch wound it into soft ringlets around her face. With no veil, no hat like Petunia’s, the only thing on her head was a beaded white ribbon, tucked behind her ears.

“I’m so glad you invited the whole Order, Madam Potter,” Marlene said. “It’d be a crime if no one saw Lily looking this pretty.”

Effie beamed, smoothing the long gloves Lily wore with her short sleeved dress on the February day. “Yes, our sweetheart is a beauty of a bride. And it's nice to have the ballroom full again,” she said.

There was a knock at the door, Remus. Sirius was James’s best man, Peter was standing up as a groomsman as well. Of the lads, Remus was the best friend of Lily's, and the one she and James had asked to walk her into the ceremony. He was willing, but looking sheepish about it, knowing what a poor substitute he was for her Dad. 

He offered his arm. “They’re ready, Lily.”

Marlene led Effie away first, Lily and Remus hanging back to let them get settled. “You look dashing in dress robes,” Lily said, flicking his fancy white tie with one finger. “James is done up like this too?”

He smiled. “Yes. And he’s dying to see you.”

Lily flinched.

“What? What’s wrong?” Remus hurried.

“Nothing, just taking ‘dying’ too literally,” she said, trying to laugh at herself. "Wedding days are too much about omens and luck."

Remus held her by both her arms and stooped to speak into her face. “It’s alright to be nervous. But I hope you can be happy. This is all meant to make you happy. If anything here doesn't make you happy, we'll send it away.”

As they stepped out of Effie’s bedroom, Lily heard music, a piano playing from the ballroom. She wondered who was playing it. Someone from the Order she hadn’t met yet? Her heart reached out to it, to this whole world of love and support waiting for her in this new life she was beginning today.

The music changed as she and Remus appeared in the door of the ballroom, getting louder, grander, more serious. If they were Muggles, the guests might have stood up, but they weren’t. They merely watched, smiling as she moved toward James standing in front of a spectacular wall of leaded windows. He and Sirius and Peter stood with their hands clasped in front of themselves. They were meant to look stoic and still, but there was something active, vibrating in James’s posture, the way he’d been vibrating the first time he kissed her, in the cellar of this house.

Remus passed Lily’s hand to James before he took his place beside Peter. Marlene took Lily's bouquet from her, an awkward thing full of petunias freshly picked from Effie’s greenhouse, but which were already wilting and sloughing their pink and purple petals onto the wooden floor.

Dumbledore was officiating, dressed in long robes made of a heavy, dressy midnight blue velvet. James’s hand had closed over Lily’s, and Dumbledore had just cleared his throat to begin when a voice rang out from the entrance to the ballroom.

“Lily Margaret Evans -- what in the bloody hell are you doing?”

Lily gasped, jumping to stand in front of James, as if to protect him. “Mum!”

Everyone in the room reacted with a colossal, collective cringe.

Mitch was standing in the door next to Cheryl Evans, in denims, a Leicester Tigers rugby shirt, and a corduroy jacket. “Jim? What’s all this then, Jim?”

“A word with you, Lily,” Cheryl called across the ballroom. “Out here. Right now.”

\-----------------------------------

Cheryl Evans stood in the library at the Potters’ manor with Effie and Monty, James and Lily, and Mitch. Her hands were planted on her hips, and she was well past ready for answers. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me, Lily, that this isn’t what it looks like. Because it looks like my schoolgirl daughter marrying a boy she's been dating for less than two months.”

“We were going to talk to you about it,” Lily began. “Weren’t we James?”

He sputtered behind her.

“I mean” Lily said, “when we came home for my birthday, it was in my mind to raise it with you if the evening went smoothly. Only it didn’t. You remember, Mum. That was the night Petty sacked me as her bridesmaid. I was gutted and ran out before I could even think to talk about my own wedding.”

Cheryl slammed her purse on the table in front of her. “That’s no excuse." She waved at Mitch. “Will you please say something?”

“Right,” he said. “Shocking, Lily. Shocking and -- say, is this place a rental, Jim? Just for weddings?”

James was still stunned but managed to say, “No, we live here. These are my parents, and this is my house.”

“You hear that, Cher? This is their house,” Mitch said. “The old folks and Jim’s. No disrespect intended, Madam.”

Effie dismissed it with a wave and a smile.

Lily snagged Mitch’s hand, “Dad, how did you get here? You didn't come magically, did you?”

“She’s leading you off the point,” Cheryl warned.

“No, it’s alright,” Mitch said. “Yes, we came on some mad bus. The lonely vampire boy from down the lane -- what’s his name -- Scissors or something?”

“Severus?” Lily chirped.

“Yeah, that’s him. He came to the house raving about you having an emergency, about your future at stake and we needed to go to you that instant. Right convincing he was, enough for us to let him put us on that wild bus ride here,” Mitch said. “I’ve no idea how we’re getting home, but it won’t be the same way. Never again.”

“Lily will get us home herself,” Cheryl said. “Since she’s coming back with us, right now.”

“Mum, I’m not,” Lily said. “I’m in school, but I'm eighteen, an adult. And I’m staying with James.”

“So you’re pregnant,” Cheryl said.

“I am not,” Lily wailed in answer. “In fact, I’m still a virgin.”

Cheryl gave a loud scoff. Mitch winced, as if embarrassed for James. Effie nodded, but Monty looked sceptical, clicking his tongue.

Lily tossed her head, defiant, and linked her arm through James’s. “It’s true. It sounds mad, but I’m here because I want to get married to this man. It’s my own choice.”

Cheryl sneered up at James. “Fine, but what kind of rich, fit eighteen year old boy wants to be tied down to a wife?”

“Lily’s my soulmate,” James said, unaware what would sound most ridiculous to Muggles and going ahead and saying it. “It doesn’t matter how old we are. We’re cosmically, magically bound together, and we want to seal it with a marriage. Right Mum? Dad?"

"That's right, Jimsy."

"There's all of that and," James said, folding his hand over Lily's where she held his arm. " And the fact that I love her.”

Cheryl spun away from him and his parents. “Oh, lovely. They’re soulmates, Mitch. Did you hear that? Nothing to worry about here.”

“Mum, please,” Lily said. “You can’t stop me. So please don’t make this unpleasant. I want to be glad you’re here.”

“Oh, do you -- ”

“Cheryl, love,” Mitch said, interrupting, taking her hand and leading her aside. “Excuse me everyone, we just need a quick word.” He towed her between two high bookcases, whispering. “Look, Cheryl, this whole big place is going to be Jim’s as soon as those two old duffers kick it. He’s got no brothers and sisters so it’ll be all his. And that means half Lily’s. Even if she divorces him, he’ll still be stuck keeping her in style for the rest of her life.”

Cheryl frowned. “You’re advocating gold digging now, are you Mitch? That’s the future you want for our girls?”

He sighed. “No, love. What I’m advocating is making the best of it. She’s going through with it no matter what we say, so don’t think of this as the shutting down of Lily’s future. Think of it as the opening up of her future. Once she’s tied to all of this, she’ll be able to afford whatever choices she wants. And if it turns out she’s not as in love with her school boyfriend as girls her age are prone to think they are, she’ll still have all those choices.”

Cheryl squirmed inside her coat. “That’s so vulgar.”

“No, it’s natural Cher,” he said. “Think of our Petunia and Vernon. If he didn’t have a job and a car, would she have ever taken a man like him on? It’s what girls are still driven to do in this cruel world. If you won’t admit it, then the most hopeless romantic in this story is you, Cher.”

She let out a long breath. “If we don’t break it up, Scissors is going to be furious with us.”

There was a pause, a beat before Mitch realized she was joking. He muffled his laugh in his shoulder. If she was joking, it meant she was coming around.

“One question,” Cheryl said, stepping out from between the bookcases, addressing James. “Do your people have divorce?”

“Mum!”

“Yes,” Effie said. “It’s rare, but it has crept in from Muggle culture. More and more all the time.”

Effie had said it mournfully but Cheryl tossed her head and cried, “Excellent. Let’s carry on.”

————

They were back in the ballroom, all the guests re-seated with Mitch and Cheryl sitting uneasily but resignedly on the front row, Lily’s discarded gloves folded in her lap. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

“We are honored today to witness the sealing of the prophesied soul bond between James Euphemius Potter and Lily Margaret Evans. It is an occasion of joy and hope for us all.” He paused, his eyes looking out over the tops of his spectacles, at the assembled Order of the Phoenix, at Augusta Longbottom clutching her son’s hand.

“James and Lily,” he resumed, “take each other by the left wrist…”

He spoke of promises, of futures and posterity, eternity. As he spoke, bands of bright, white light emerged not from his wand, but from their flesh itself as they held each other’s wrists. It curled up their arms, over their shoulders, trailing down, over their hearts. 

Lily’s blood hummed in her veins. This was powerful magic, pure and beautiful magic, that was familiar to her from other times when she and James had been close. She stood in its glow, and knew it would be part of her life forever. 

“Now your right wrists, please,” Dumbledore said. 

They reached for each other, their bodies forming a ring. The white light raced toward itself, like a circuit completed. The hum in Lily’s being became a roar. And as she closed her eyes and sank into it, she saw James closing his eyes as well. Behind her eyelids, she could still see him, and knew it was the same for him.

Dumbledore’s voice was calling through the roar of pulsing light. 

Do you accept this union? 

Yes, in every way, yes.

The vow spoken, the light faded. With their eyes now open, Dumbledore declared them married. James stepped forward and kissed her, sweetly, as their friends, parents, teachers, and a room full of Order of the Phoenix strangers working to save their lives looked on. 

There were Monty and Effie, holding each other as they cried. Cheryl and Mitch, sitting dumbfounded and unsure what they'd seen. Alice was dabbing her eyes, pressed tight to Frank’s side. Marlene stood throttling the nearly disintegrated bunch of petunias. And standing closest to them were the lads, Sirius and Peter beaming, Remus looking pale, but working to smile.

After the cake was served and James and Lily were introduced around the room, Mitch and Cheryl left with Fabian and Gideon Prewett in the modified Muggle car they’d borrowed from their brother-in-law. 

“Did you see the way James was stuck to her after the ceremony?” Cheryl remarked to Mitch sat with his nose all but mashed against the car window. “Right clingy. All hands. I reckon Lily was telling the truth about them being virgins. And poor old James has had enough of it.”

It was mid-afternoon, Effie’s dainty wedding luncheon was over and most of the guests had gone. Eventually, only the young people were left, slumped at a table in the ballroom, sipping at the wine that had been left unattended -- everyone but Remus, who was still reeling from the whiskey incident, and James and Lily who hadn’t been able to eat or drink much of anything the entire day.

“It’s alright,” Marlene said. “You’ll be plenty hungry later.”

Hooting and whistling went up from the rest of them.

“What are you doing still here, Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” Sirius crowed. “Go on. Go honeymoon.”

“Yes, disappear,” Peter said, shoving James’s shoulder.

“But, I thought,” James began. “I thought we had to -- Mum, she said to -- “

“Your mother is napping upstairs,” Marlene said. “This was a busy day for the old girl. I guarantee she won’t want to see you again today.”

Lily laughed at James as he took the news, blinking, his mouth working. “So there’s nothing to wait for? Nothing left for us to do but…”

“Exactly,” Sirius said.

James sprung to his feet, grabbing at Lily, turning on the spot with her feet still in the air, and disapparating to the sound of his friends’ cheers.

Lily had broken into a squeal as he snatched her and it sounded through the Hogwarts grounds as they emerged just outside them. The newlyweds were off balance, too much momentum, James stumbling to catch them just before they would have toppled onto the ground.

“James Potter, you nearly grass stained your mother’s antique wedding dress,” Lily laughed, batting his arm.

“This dress,” he said, tracing its V-necked collar with his forefinger. “It’s lovely but I’ve had enough of it. I’ve been puzzling over these tiny buttons down the back all day. It’s going to take me ages to get through them.”

“They’re false buttons,” she said. “There’s a zipper underneath.”

On learning this, his smile bent rather wickedly, and he pressed her even closer.

“If you’re in that much of a rush,” she said, grinning at him, “I don’t understand why you brought us to the edge of the quidditch pitch instead of the main gates.”

“Because I refuse to sneak into my honeymoon suite under an invisibility cloak,” he said, leading her to the field house where his gear was stored. “No, we’re flying home, triumphant.”

Lily was a decent flyer but she’d never made a tandem broom flight. What’s more, she was a leisure flyer while James was competitive, his movements ballistic and fast, not as careful as she liked.

“No game flying, I promise,” he said, coaxing her onto the broom. “Nothing but romantic honeymoon flying. Trust me, I can be gentle. Sit in the front and I’ll close my arms around you, like a safety belt in a Muggle car, one that loves you more than anything and would never let you fall.”

She stepped over the broom, white satin and lace everywhere, and eased her hips backward, between James’s thighs. He leaned over her, hIs face at her shoulder, taking a moment to graze her cheek with his lips before planting his hands near where she held the broom between her knees. His thumb stroked the satin covering her thigh.

"James, you said ‘gentle.’ This is more like -- like," she said.

"Desperate?" he tried.

She turned a little more toward him, to whisper in his ear. “No, seductive.”

He growled and kicked off.

She lost her breath as they rose, but there were no more complaints about him taking them home too fast, up across the fields and hills, through the brisk February air to the top of Gryffindor Tower.

They were at the pinnacle, and she used her wand to swing the glass windowpane out of their way as they arrived. As she closed it behind them, James floated farther into the room, hovering over their bed. She had hardly noticed where they were when he spilled them both off the broom and onto the mattress. She was squealing again as they crashed into their bed and he gathered her into his arms, the broom drifting to stand neatly against the wall.

“Why did you do it like that,” she laughed, batting at his chest. “You’re supposed to elegantly, romantically carry me into our suite, aren’t you?”

“Fine, let’s get up and I'll lug you around the room for a bit,” he said, moving as if to stand.

“No,” she said, pulling him back onto the mattress, on top of herself, peppering his cheek with kisses. “Now that you’re here with me, you stay.”

He settled onto her, his body between her knees, the dress rumpled and bulky between them. He was held back further by her hands, tangled in his fancy wedding tie.

“Nevermind my buttons,” she said, tugging at the knots and loops in the yards and yards of fine white fabric around his neck. “How are we supposed to get you out of this?”

“Oh,” he said. “They said it would be easy. You just…” He was feeling for the end of the tie that would undo the whole thing in a single, elegant swish. “That’s not it. Neither is -- ow, don’t strangle me before we even -- Lily, what have you done?”

“I’m helping -- “

“Helping? You’ve gone and made this thing into a chastity charm of its own.”

“Oh, hold still,” she said, reaching for her wand and Vanishing the tie altogether. It was gone and James was lying on top of her, his shirt open now, her hands on his hot skin, moving up over his shoulders to push his sleeves away. His hand was beneath her, tugging at the hidden zipper below the pretty buttons.

She sighed through a smile as she tossed his shirt away, his arms and torso bared for her. She was sensing his low, soul-bound vibrations again, reaching out for her own. “I don’t know why I didn’t imagine it this way,” she said. “I expected it to be all embarrassingly passionate and intense, when it’s really more like you as you always were before, all love.”

"This is new though," he said, his hands on her skin now, his voice low and husky but his touch eager and sure, as if they'd known each other, even like this, forever. "I knew you'd be like this all over. The same sweetness, only more and better. And now," he said, his lips touching hers, "now all mine."

"Yours," she said.

And then it was all as passionate and intense as either of them had ever imagined. The sun was setting on their wedding day, the dress was a heap on the floor, and as far as they knew, their soul bond was truly complete.

\------------------

One of the intraschool message owls roosted on the back of Narcissa's chair in the library. The afternoon was dragging on painfully slowly. She hadn't seen Severus all day, and had no idea what kind of trouble he might be up to. She had been watching for Remus to warn him Snape had wrung the news about Potter getting married out of her, but there'd been no sign of him either. It annoyed her more than she would have cared to say.

And now here was this owl, calling her to the courtyard. She summoned her cloak as she crossed the Entrance Hall and went outside to meet her visitor, already suspecting who it was. She was not wrong.

"Cissa, darling," his voice drawled.

"Lucius," she said, taking the hand he offered her. "What a nice surprise."

"Yes, well, I won't be available tomorrow for Valentine's Day, so I've come a day early." He handed her a small wrapped box.

She'd forgotten about blasted Valentine's Day. What could she give him? There was that book of Centaur love poetry she'd picked up. It was brand new. Did Lucius read poetry? Did he read anything but polemics on purity?

“It’s not Valentine’s Day, exactly, but it is a romantic occasion here at the school after all, isn’t it?” he mused. “We got word at the manor that Hogwarts’ Head Boy and Girl were married today. Unusual, to be sure. But then, these are unprecedented times we live in. You look surprised, Cissa. I thought you knew already. Severus said it was you who told him about it. Heard it from a Gryffindor friend?”

“Well -- well, yes,” she said. “I’d only just learned the wedding was coming, but I certainly didn’t expect it so soon. It must have been a very private affair. I wonder how Severus found out the details.”

Lucius laughed. “Our Severus is not to be underestimated. Do so at your peril,” he said, as if joking.

She laughed along, looking away to unwrap the box, diverting his attention. Inside was something lovely, as always -- a hair clip covered in pearls. "Thank you, darling," she said, clenching her eyes shut as he bent to drop a slow, wet kiss on her cheek. “I've got your gift inside. I’ll fetch it now.”

“If you like,” he said. “It's such a fine day for February. I’ll wait here."

As soon as she was out of his sight, she skipped into a run, hoping he wouldn't notice the extra time it took to wrap the book. 

She was finished and hopping back up the stairs to the Entrance Hall when the Floo flamed. Sirius had stepped out and stood fluffing his hair, waiting for someone to follow. Narcissa bit her lip and braced herself. Lupin, it had to be him coming next. She hadn’t seen him since she’d nearly pressed a mad, hot kiss on his neck after he’d drunkenly told her -- he’d said -- oh, had he really said it?

The Floo flashed again. Remus emerged hardly recognizable as himself, wearing perfectly tailored dark dress robes. She stopped, looking from him to the doors to the courtyard, then back at him. For all her fancy trimmings, Narcissa’s tastes in menswear were simple. She liked long, clean lines. She liked... 

“Stars help me,” she said as she trotted toward where Remus stood waiting at the Floo. It was flashing again as Peter arrived, and the commotion meant Remus hadn’t seen her coming. She announced herself with a hand laid on his arm.

Sirius frowned openly at the sight of her. “Oh, what now?”

“Can I have a word, Lupin?” she said. “In private?”

He stared at her hand on his arm, and without looking her in the face, nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“Stay in sight,” Sirius called after them.

“Lupin, it’s Severus,” she began.

“He knows about the wedding,” Lupin finished.

“Why, yes. How did -- “

“He sent Lily’s parents to the Potters’ manor to break it up. No harm done though. But we were wondering how he came to know,” He narrowed his eyes, as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. “It wasn’t -- wasn’t me, when I’d been drinking the other night, was it? I remember Snape was there, and so were you. I don’t remember telling him, but did I?”

“It wasn’t you alone,” she said, her head in her hands. “You accidentally told me about the wedding, and then, when Snape realized I knew something, he threatened me and forced me to tell him too.”

Lupin bent toward her. “Snape threatened you?” He swore, scanning the Hall.

“Just with gossip,” she said. “And a weak attempt at Legilimency. I wasn’t harmed at all.”

“A weak attempt at Legilimency?” he repeated. “That’s something like a weak attempt at rape. Or at least a serious violation of your mental personhood.”

“Which I rebuffed easily,” she said. “Now stop being so gallant and tall and looking so lovely dressed up and listen to me. I didn’t come to you to be rescued. I came to help you with -- whatever it is the lot of you are trying to do.”

Remus looked like he was listening extremely intently, but all he said was, “Stop looking -- looking -- what?”

“Listen,” she said, shaking his arm. “Severus didn’t just go to Lily’s family. He went to -- to their Dark Lord. If it was supposed to stay a secret from him, it hasn’t. You have to let Potter know.”

But Remus wasn’t listening. He was straightening his posture to its full height and glaring across the Entrance Hall at a beautiful, shining blond man stepping in from the courtyard. Remus tugged his arm out of Narcissa’s grip. But she’d already read his face, its complex expression of anger, fear, and sadness, before he spun around, and walked back to the lads without a word.

“Lucius,” she said as he reached her, holding the gift of the book in front of herself. “Here it is. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He nudged the book out his way with the end of his walking stick and stepped so close to her she had to tip her head to see his face. He felt for her free hand, bending her arm between them and raising her hand to his face. “Thank you, my beloved girl.” He kissed her hand, one knuckle at a time, making slow, languid progress, his eyes on hers, as if daring her to try to look away at anything or anyone else.

“You are too sweet, Lucius,” she said as he released her hand, breaking their eye contact, backing away.

“I can be,” he said. "Until next time, darling." With a smirk and a wave, he left her there, in the Entrance Hall, alone.

She stood for a moment, her hand wiping away Lucius's kiss in the folds of her cloak, her eyes trailing up the staircase Lupin would have climbed to leave her. Perhaps she only imagined the flutter in her back, like wings about to unfurl themselves to fly her up and after him. Her feet were moving instead, following, climbing toward Gryffindor Tower.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, really quick update. Show some restraint, girl. But it's the weekend and I had people on another site clamouring for the conclusion of Narcissa running up the stairs so, here it is. If you're reading, drop me a line about how you like it and whether Remus/Narcissa is taking over the story too much. I need to make decisions about where certain things are going now. Thanks!

Narcissa Black was never so vulgar as to be caught in a hurry -- the way she spoke, the way she sauntered from place to place, the way she drifted down onto chairs like a silk scarf settling over them -- hers was a deliberate, luxurious, unhurried pace. 

But tonight, she was bolting up the Hogwarts main staircase, her cloak streaming out behind her as she took the steps two at a time. At the top, she crossed the corridor and ran to the bottom of the moving stairs, the ones that would probably not budge under her Slytherin feet to take her to Gryffindor Tower. She was right about that and stood halfway up them, pointed in the wrong direction but able to see to the portrait hole where Remus Lupin was waiting while Peter Pettigrew boosted himself inside.

“Lupin!” she called across the open space, unconcerned for once about the possibility of anyone else hearing her.

At the sound of her voice, his shoulder jerked toward his ear but he didn’t turn around.

“Quit your sulking and finish talking to me,” she called again.

It was Sirius who answered back, his hand on Remus’s back, pushing him toward the tower entrance. “Go home, Narcissa. We’ve had a long day.”

“Lupin!” she called again. 

His foot was on the edge of the portrait hole, about to step up into it, about to go in for the night with his head full of images of Lucius Malfoy snogging her hand in the Entrance Hall just now. She wouldn’t have it, and she called out one more time.

Only, there wasn’t a sound -- not in the usual way. She opened her mouth, air moved through her throat, but nothing echoed off the vaulted stone walls of the castle stairwell. At least, nothing simple humans could hear. But across the open space, Remus and Sirius both covered their ears and cried out, as if in pain.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, spinning around to look incredulously at his cousin. “How did -- “

“I told you she was part creature,” Remus said. “Though I didn’t know she could -- “

“Stop standing there looking impressed,” Sirius said. “Either go inside, or holler back at her to never use that ultrasonic tone with you again.”

“Are you coming?” Narcissa called. “I wasn’t finished speaking with you when I was interrupted.”

Sirius patted his shoulder as he took Remus’s place in the portrait hole. “You know what the Black family is like. Don't get too close to her. Don’t go anywhere private. Be careful,” he said. "I'll expect you up in our room in ten minutes."

Remus nodded, sighing and scuffing to the top of the stairwell, waiting as the stones sensed him there and turned toward him. They were moving, Narcissa holding their bannister and coming along with them. He walked down to where she stood. 

“What?” he said.

“No, not in a high traffic area like this,” she said. “We can’t talk here. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just over here,” she said, pulling on his arm. “The Divination classroom. It’s always empty on the weekend.”

He followed, hanging back as if he was resisting as she led him by his sleeve. Dumbledore was looking for a new Divination teacher so the class lacked the territorial feel of belonging to any professor in particular. That’s not to say it was sparsely decorated. It was full of lush trimmings from previous teachers, giving it a heavy, shadowy feel, lit even in its off hours with the faint blue glow of the crystal balls set on all the low tables. As always, there was nowhere to sit but on the cushions on the floor, so they stood.

Remus closed the door behind himself as she let go of his sleeve. “Alright,” he began. “So tell me what else I said to Snape when I was drunk.”

“Not a word, actually,” she said.

He waited for her to continue but she seemed to be fighting to keep breathing normally, her shoulders rising and falling, one hand on her chest. He frowned, stepping closer. “Narcissa?”

She shook her head. “It’s not about what you said to Snape that night. It’s about what you said to me.”

Even in the dim light, she could see the change in his face. He remembered. He remembered the way he’d held her on the stairs and told her it wasn’t right that she belonged to Lucius Malfoy when he, Remus himself, belonged to her. 

He fell more than stepped back, recoiling from the mention of it. “If you want an apology, you can have it,” he said. “Sorry for what I said. Forget it. Are you satisfied? Can I leave now?”

“No,” she said. “I am not at all satisfied with you saying one thing and then trying to take it back.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “How can I not take it back? Malfoy was just here, making a show of fawning all over you and -- and kissing you when he knew, he KNEW we were standing right there. Even Moony could read a display like that.”

“Don’t talk about the werewolf like he’s not you,” she said, her voice rising. “That’s something else you said on the stairs that night.” She stepped closer. “You told me you and Moony are the same. But you didn’t have to say it. Not to me. I already know.”

“So does anyone who cares to look at the Ministry’s werewolf registry,” he said, getting louder himself.

“You know that is not what I mean.” Her voice was quiet again. The distance between them was short enough for her to easily, naturally curve her fingers around his. He startled at her touch, but didn’t resist it. 

“I mean,” she said, “that I know you’re part of each other, not separate. I know all sides of you, Lupin. And what’s more,” she said, the grip of her fingers becoming more insistent, “what perhaps no one else in the world can say, is that I like all sides of you.”

His limp hand closed on hers as his voice released a sigh that was almost a sob. He raised their joined hands. Hers was the one he'd seen Lucius kiss, and he pushed it away from himself. Slowly, he bent her arm at her elbow, and pressed her hand against her sternum. 

“Thank you. But none of that matters,” he said, letting go.

"That is not true."

"Yeah, well that doesn't matter either."

“It might,” she said, taking him by his tie and pulling him closer than ever. He closed his eyes, held his face turned away from her, but he didn’t try to leave. 

She went on. “Just let me test whether you meant what you said about you and me. You don’t seem to know for certain anymore.”

She rose onto her tiptoes, leaning into him. He fell back on his heels, slouching against the tapestried wall behind him. She inched forward to stand between his feet. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He shook his head, eyes still closed, swallowing hard. “No, and I swore I never would. I can’t be sure I can do it without hurting anyone.” His words slowed as he got to the end of his statement, as if he was gradually succumbing to something.

She boosted herself higher, using the friction between her clothes and his to help hold herself up. “I won’t force you,” she said, her face so close to his she could feel his breath, hot and fast on her skin. “But I am asking you...” 

She paused, wondering if she had just imagined the slight inclining of his head toward her.

He spoke into the pause, “Narcissa, your heart beat, it’s…”

“Yes,” she said. “Because I’m asking you to kiss me. Please...”

She closed her eyes. For a moment, there was nothing. And then, warmth and texture against her lips, tentative, exploratory, like a dog sniffing the closed hand of a stranger. She had invited it but it still startled her, and she opened her mouth to gasp just as Remus moved closer. The smooth curve of his lip touched the wet inner edge of her mouth. The sensation shook through him. She heard his voice, wanting, starving, and she surged into him.

Her hands framed his jawline, guiding the angle and motion of his face, showing him how to find what he needed in the kiss. But he needed everything, more than she had ever given anyone. He was no longer shy but commanding. His arms were around her, one hand in the small of her back, lifting her toward himself, the other holding a great handful of her silky hair. She was breathless, clinging to him, chasing him, overwhelmed but desperate for more. She licked at his upper lip and he was there, returning it, deep, and moaning into her again.

It was coming back -- their meeting in the forest as werewolf and Veela. He had his tongue on her that night as well, and the glorious madness of it was melding into tonight. Her heart beat in his ears -- it drew his mouth away from hers, kissing down her neck, to the point where her carotid pulse fluttered in her neck. He sucked the delicate skin over it between his teeth. Her head was thrown back to let him take it, her hands on his shoulders, kneading him into her. 

But when her voice sounded in her throat, against his mouth, he tore himself away, horrified, panting, his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.

“What’s wrong?” she said in a tiny, breathy voice.

“I wanted,” he said, chest heaving, not stilled at all by her hands running over it, inside his outer robes, against his shirt. “I wanted to bite you. Savagely.”

She took his chin between her fingers and tipped his head until he was looking down into her eyes. “But you didn’t,” she said. “You wouldn’t do that. Not to me.”

She sprung up to kiss his neck, not like his Veela, with fangs, but with a soft, warm mouth that melted away any more trepidation he might have had. He bent his knees, sinking along the wall, taking her to the floor. But their motion dragged too hard on the tapestry behind him, and the rings it was suspended by snapped, sending the heavy, dusty, ancient cloth falling from the ceiling, on top of them.

They came apart and fought their way out from underneath it, emerging to sit side by side on the classroom floor, still breathless but now coughing at the dust as well. Remus looked at her and laughed, doing a poor job of smoothing her disheveled hair with one hand. “Look at you,” he said. “The elegant Narcissa Black.”

“Well on my way to ravished,” she said, beating the dust from where it sullied the shoulder of his dress robes. “It’s a shame about your clothes. You really did look devastatingly attractive, all dressed up today.”

He grabbed at her, pulling her into his lap, facing away from him, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her upper arms to her sides. “Is that what this is all about? James Potter’s wedding clothes?”

She laughed and rocked in his hold. “Well, they don’t hurt your case, I will say that.”

He dropped his chin onto her shoulder and sighed. “What is this truly all about then?” he said, serious now.

She bowed her head against his temple. “I don’t know. All I can say is I couldn’t let you go, not tonight, not again. It was as simple as that. I hope you’re not still sorry.”

He sighed again. “I’m not. But I can’t be some creature fancy man you keep on the side for when your human is off Death Eating. Even if I had no moral objections, it would eventually get me killed.”

She whimpered against his face. “I know. I certainly don’t want any of that. But I don’t want Lucius as a husband either. I don’t want any mere human,” she said, her voice falling to a whisper. “How could I ever be content with that now?”

Remus squeezed her. This couldn’t be happening. Him sitting here like this with anyone, let alone with Narcissa Black -- it couldn’t be real. And no matter how perfect everything she said and did was tonight, it probably wouldn’t be real for very long.

“If only not wanting this arranged marriage meant I’d know exactly what to do about,” she cupped his knee with her hand, “about this.”

He smoothed his rough evening cheek against the hair at her crown. “Go home and sleep on it.”

“You’re sending me away already?” she said.

“I need to,” he answered. “I can’t stay here mindlessly devouring you all night.”

“Of course you can.”

“Well, I shouldn’t,” he said through a quiet, tormented laugh. “This isn’t how I thought my day would end. And I need to take a moment and think through it.”

“Lupin,” she whispered into the side of his face. “Don’t let this be the last time we meet like this. I’ll -- I’ll do something. I’ll go to the library and read everything I can on betrothal law. I’ll visit my parents and test the waters for breaking our agreement with the Malfoys.”

He sighed again. “Don’t marry Malfoy if you don't want to, but don’t be careless with your future either. I can never give you the life you’re used to. I've no fortune, and as a registered werewolf, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work -- “

“Look, I didn’t lure you in here as a ploy to get you to take care of me for the rest of my life,” she said, pushing herself out of his lap to kneel in front of where he sat, taking his hands. “Mad James Potter has got you taking relationships far too seriously today. I can break up with Lucius without burdening you.”

He hung his head. “You’re not a burden -- “

“Oh yes I am,” she said, laughing joylessly. “You have no idea how much of a burden I could be. But come back to me anyway. At least one more time. And then maybe another...” 

She cradled his cheek in her palm and he looked up at her. Even when she wasn’t transformed she gave the sense that she glowed in low light -- her hair and skin. Beneath his hands, her flesh was ethereally soft, almost like she wasn’t there. 

He hissed and swiped his thumb along the mark forming on her neck. "Have you got any more of that healing balm?"

"Not yet," she said, raising the hood of her cloak to hide it. "I want to keep it for a little while. Maybe until I wake up in the morning, as if you’re still with me through the night." She finally blushed at herself. “Pardon me. My Veela is speaking her mind.”

“Don’t talk about her as if she’s not you,” he said as he reached for her. He drew her closer, watching her advance, her eyes were wide and bright. She saw him, looked inside of him, unblinking, unafraid as he kissed her again. 

Foolish girl, entreating him to come back to her. He would. Every moment he didn’t fight to keep himself away, he would be with her.

\-----------------------------------------------

“What happened to you?” Peter was standing in the centre of their room, well and truly tangled in his wedding tie as he tried to get free of it.

“Nothing,” Remus said, closing the door behind himself and fighting back a grin. He stepped forward, pulling on the end of Peter’s tie that released him from the knot.

“Thank the stars you came, Remus,” Peter said. “I was just about to throttle myself with it.”

Something about hearing Peter say it was like a cold hand passing over Remus’s warm mood. He shuddered under it as he slipped out of his own dusty robes.

But Peter was safe and well, tossing his dress robes into a pile on James’s empty bed where Sirius’s already lay rumpled and scattered. “Really, Remus, what have you been into?” he said, his nose twitching. “It’s a bit like -- like Sirius, only flowery.”

At that moment, the bathroom door banged open. Sirius stood in it, his black hair wet from his shower, arms leaning against the jambs as if he was a model posing in nothing but a towel around his waist. “You call that ten minutes?” he said.

He marched into the bedroom, sniffing hard in Remus’s direction. “Aw, you did. Hang it, Remus, you've gone and kissed my cousin.”

“He what?” Peter squeaked. “Right after Malfoy stood there and loved her up in front of us all in the Entrance Hall? Won’t he have you hunted down like a -- erm, well...”

“Yes, he would, Pete,” Remus said. “That’s why I’m back here already, trying to think it through.”

“That shouldn’t take long,” Sirius said, toweling his hair. “Leave each other alone. There you have it. Nothing else makes sense.”

“On the surface, yes,” Remus said. “Which is why I need to slow down if I want to think below the surface.”

“This is James’s fault,” Sirius said, glaring up at the ceiling before snapping a T-shirt over his head. “Him up there right now, getting off with his Missus, giving everyone else rash, fanciful ideas.”

“Was she a Veela when you did it?” Peter asked.

“She’s never not a Veela,” Remus said, falling face down on his mattress. “But no, she wasn’t transformed, if that’s what you mean. She took me aside to tell me how Snape found out about the wedding and then -- she just -- asked me to kiss her.”

“And you obediently obliged?” Sirius railed.

Remus only shrugged. 

“Well, how was it?” Peter asked, glancing warily at Sirius. “Your first kiss, mate. That’s -- something.”

“Well,” Remus said, sitting up. “I didn’t turn into a beast and tear her throat out, so I’m calling it a success.”

“A high bar indeed,” Sirius said. 

Remus tossed a pillow at him. “It was a very nice kiss.”

Sirius threw the pillow back with more force. “You end up on the floor?”

Remus’s cheeks flushed and he turned his face to the window.

“By the stars,” Peter marveled. “Our Remus and Narcissa Black.”

Sirius hated it, growling out a change of subject. “So what’s this about her having news of Snape?”

Remus explained about Snape hurrying off to tell Tom Riddle about James and Lily being married as soon as he finished sending the Evanses off to try to spoil the wedding. “Narcissa seemed to think it was dangerous for the Death Eaters to know about the wedding, but I’m not sure about that,” he said. “Now that it’s made, the marriage strengthens their power, so isn’t it a good thing that he knows not to trifle with them anymore?”

Peter was frowning. “Maybe he’ll turn his attention to Alice now.”

Sirius patted Peter’s shoulder. “Poor old Pete. You had a rough time today, didn’t you mate? Watching Alice and Frank getting all caught up in the soulmate talk.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s a better excuse than many for being thrown over.”

“We’ll find you someone new,” Sirius said. “I’ll ask Marlene. Maybe that nice Dorcas she shares a room with now Lily’s moved upstairs?”

Peter and Remus shared a look. Sirius had a rather sordid history with girls, but most of it was based on snogging misadventures and showy dates. They’d never known him to be in love with anyone, not even in the longing, one-sided way Peter felt for Alice. He still approached girlfriends like a young boy, as if they were somewhat interchangeable.

“Right, Rus, thanks,” was all Peter would say for now. “So who’s going up there to tell James that Riddle knows he’s married?”

“No one,” Remus and Sirius said in unison.

“We won’t go looking for the happy couple until they emerge on their own,” Sirius said. “Let them carry on in their perfect dreamworld as long as they can.”

Remus fell backward on his bed. “Dreamworld,” he said. “Yeah, that's nice.”

\------------------------------------------------

“James Potter! Put something on before you go to the window,” Lily said, throwing the coverlet from the bed after him. “Some poor young person in the astronomy tower is going to learn much more than they bargained for about the Head Boy tonight if you’re not careful.”

He winked at her as he slung the blanket carelessly over one shoulder. “I thought so,” he said. “That racket was this owl, flying up here with a picnic basket. Thank the stars. This means they don’t expect us to report for dinner all tousled and flushed.”

She tucked a sheet around herself as he crashed back onto the bed, holding the basket aloft. 

“It’s from Madam Pomfrey,” she said. “Oh, lots of specially charmed cranberry juice. Marked especially for me.”

"Odd," he said.

She rolled her eyes, "Not really. Drink your water." 

The sun had gone down and the room was getting cold, just as McGongall had predicted. Their dinner eaten, cranberry juice taken, the newest Potter family lay in bed together, warm and unspeakably happy.

“My one regret from today,” James said, “is not taking some of that wedding cake with us when we left.”

Lily smiled against his chest. “I do wish we’d brought that book too,” she said, linking their hands together. “Your Aunt Bathilda’s rare book, the one your mum promised us as a wedding present.”

James nuzzled his face into her hair. “That’s alright with me. I don’t feel much like reading tonight.”

She breathed a soft laugh and nestled closer to him. “I’m anxious to get started on that new magic though. Now that I have this life, I want to keep it, all prophecies of doom be hanged.”

"Speaking of doom, I suppose we won't be telling your parents about any prophecies," James said. 

Lily hummed. "They handled everything quite well this morning. But I don't know if they can take much more. And now they'll be at home dealing with Petty finding out I got married before she did. Honestly, I try to be a good sister. I don't mean to perturb her. But I can't seem to stop myself."

James kissed her forehead. "You've done nothing wrong, love. And if it makes you feel better, we can be sure not to conceive our chosen one until she and Vernon have Mitch and Cheryl's first grandchild already underway."

Lily sighed. "I suppose that's for the best in more ways than one. I can’t imagine I’d want to be writing my NEWTs with a belly full of baby. Blame Mum. She always made it sound like being pregnant so young was a complete disaster for her."

"Well, it was Petunia," he said.

She chirped and batted his arm, laughing. “Be good.”

James peered at the clock he couldn't read without his glasses. "Is it time to renew the contraception charm yet? I mean, unless you don't want to…anymore today."

She was rising onto her elbow beside him, her hand tracing the contours of his torso. "You'd better renew it," she said in a voice like a cat's purr. “Quick as you can.” She was shifting, hovering over him.

His eyes widened, “Yes, Madam Potter.” He lay back to let her take the lead, barely finishing the charm before there were no more words.

—————

Far below the Potters’ honeymoon, Severus Snape paced the gravel paths of the Hogwarts courtyard, livid, whispering poison to himself.

The Evanses, those hapless rubes, had failed to stop the wedding. The soulbond between Lily and Potter was made, and the Dark Lord was furious that Snape hadn't come to him to stop it first. Snape shuddered as he paced, imagining what that would have accomplished -- the Dark Lord attacking Potter manor with the entire Order of the Phoenix inside. It would have been a declaration of all out war. No one wanted that.

Did they?

“Potter thinks he's made her safe," he muttered. "Thinks this can't be undone. Oh, he’ll be wanting her pregnant with that prophesied child now. Thinking it's salvation when it's ruin, a death warrant for all of them.”

He stopped his pacing to look up at Gryffindor Tower. Is that where Lily was, at this moment, with that filthy, arrogant -- ? 

It was unbearable.

No, he had to bear it. 

Severus Snape was still alive because he had a claim as a student to stay here in the castle, close to Dumbledore and the soulmates, watching and listening. Prophecies came in threes. The first was the one everyone knew, about the rise of the soulmates and their child. The second was the one he'd discovered in Lily Evans's office, identifying her and Potter as one of the promised pairs. 

The third was yet to come. It would reveal the precise connection between the soulmates and the Dark Lord. It would be powerful, as good as a weapon. That was what the Dark Lord believed. If Snape missed it -- 

He bit his fist at the thought of it, his flesh salty with the dried sweat of a harrowing day. If he missed the final prophecy, the Death Eater movement might have no more use for him, a half-blood nobody. No one was graciously let go from the Death Eaters. Parting ways with them would mean his destruction.

This mission couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. There was no one else. Regulus was useless as a helper in this, working on other business, secrets the Dark Lord deemed Snape unworthy to know. Narcissa couldn't be counted on, cross as she was from his failed attempt at Legilimency on her. Leave her to Malfoy. Mulciber and Avery would do as they're told, but they were too dim to think beyond following orders. 

It was up to Snape alone to be the Dark Lord’s eyes and ears, his mind in Hogwarts, open to receive the final prophecy. Snape had to wait until it arrived, find it out, and reveal it. He could do it. He had to. And to keep from hating himself, he must do it all while getting James Potter killed, and keeping Lily alive.


	18. Eighteen

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Haven't had a day this bad in a while. Finishing this up was the only good thing. Be nice to know how you liked it. Thanks for reading. DDD

Monday began with a double period of seventh year Care of Magical Creatures. The morning was cold but bright, everyone blowing clouds of warm vapour as they trudged toward the forest.

“Lads, wait up,” James Potter called out, hurrying down the hill to catch his friends.

A cheer went up when they saw him.

“Here he is,” Remus announced as he approached. “Are you going to be able to survive without her for two whole hours, James?”

“Doubtful,” he said, smiling anyway, slowing to their pace.

“Here we all were, thinking you’d still be in hiding today,” Sirius said. “Especially when you didn’t turn up for breakfast.”

James cleared his throat, smirking. “Yeah, busy morning at home.”

They were yelling again, jostling him, Peter pretending to punch him in the stomach. “So married life then, it’s…?”

“Quiet, Pete,” James said. “But yeah, I have no complaints. None at all. None ever again for the rest of my life. It’s amazing. Inexplicable, really -- “

“Alright, then,” Sirius laughed. “We believe you. And we’re happy for you, mate.”

“Do I look different?” James joked. “Isn't that what people always ask? I get it. I feel different.”

“How about Remus?” Peter asked. “Does he look different too?”

Remus’s face was instantly red. “Shut it, Pete.”

James was sputtering, grabbing at Remus’s arm, stumbling along beside him. “Why would he -- what did you do, Remus? Who? I’m gone for forty-eight hours and -- “

“Never mind it right now,” Remus said, watching something over his shoulder, desperately shushing James.

Sirius laughed at them, hard, holding onto Peter as if he’d fall over otherwise. “Stars, it serves you right, Lupin.”

“Tell me,” James was insisting, gripping Remus by the front of his cloak. “In one weekend you went from zero to -- “

“Just a kiss,” Remus said in a shouted whisper, pushing himself free of James's hold.

“Stars, Remus! With who? Not with Padfoot’s cousin."

Sirius and Peter were laughing again. 

James gasped. "No, it wouldn’t be -- not when she’s still officially with -- “

“Later, James,” Remus said.

Mercifully, Grubbly-Plank was beginning her lesson. “Right. For today, our mer-folk have generously provided for us these Lobalugs. They’ve had a bumper crop this year, don’t know why, and fear they may have been seeded in the lake for,” she eyed Narcissa Black, who was arriving last of all, “for nefarious purposes by cunning malcontents.”

Remus clenched his fist inside the sleeve of his cloak. Narcissa might not have been the only thing bringing Malfoy around the school this year.

“As advanced students like yourselves will doubtless know by now,” she went on, only slightly sarcastically, “the Lobalug is a very simple aquatic creature. Little more than a rubbery bulb for squirting a powerful, potentially deadly venom. A lazy creation, if I do say so,” she paused to chuckle to herself.

“Our task for today is to remove the venom glands from these animals before they’re dispersed into the sea. Their venom is an ingredient in several weaponized potions and these creatures must be de-venomized in order to control its supply. In other words,” she paused again, no chuckle at all, “this is much more than a lesson today, my lads and lasses. This is an act in the service of the peace and stability of your country. Now McKinnon, come assist me while I demonstrate.”

The de-venomizing process looked easy but harrowing. “If you make contact with the venom on any part of your body,” Grubbly-Plank warned, “see me immediately for the antidote. Now partner up and get to work.”

Remus’s chest swelled with a deep breath as Narcissa sauntered through the crowd, coming to stand beside him at the long work table, over a large glass fishbowl where a Lobalug lay suspended beneath the water’s surface like a limp, swamped yellow balloon. 

She glanced up at him. “Good morning, Lupin.”

“Hello, Black,” he said, struggling to sound casual as he opened the vial of aquatic stunning anesthetic potion.

They had seen each other since everything changed for them on Saturday night in the empty Divination classroom, but they hadn't spoken, and certainly hadn't touched. Yesterday had been Valentine’s Day, of all things, and they independently decided to give each other some space. Narcissa had done quite enough chasing that weekend, and Remus -- he was so used to caution he could hardly do anything else. By the end of the day, they had exchanged nothing but a few blush inducing glances across the dining hall.

“Did you get caught up on your studies yesterday?” She asked as if making breezy conversation, watching his back as he bent to measure the anesthetic into a flask, thinking how she’d like to climb onto that lean, long back and have him carry her around for the rest of the day, her arms looping his neck, legs hooked around his waist, face nestled into his shoulder.

“Yes, it was most productive,” he fibbed. He’d spent yesterday sitting in front of his books, running his eyes over the same passages without remembering what they said, distracted by reliving one particular shadowy half-hour over and over again.

“I started that research we talked about,” she said. “About bonds and contracts.”

For a moment, he was puzzled. “Contracts?” He said, straightening up.

“Yes, family contracts. You remember,” she said, taking the flask from him and using her wand to distill it, drop by drop, into the Lobalug’s bowl.

And he did remember. She had said she would look into betrothal law. As they waited for the stun to take effect, she was twisting her hair into a bun at the top of her head, looking up at him from beneath her pale eyebrows. That familiar pricking in his fingertips returned, the urge to grab her, to fold himself around her torso while she held her arms above her head. 

But he kept still, concentrating hard on listening as she explained. “Most of the laws are antiquated, and if recent case law is anything to go on, they wouldn’t hold up in a modern courtroom.” She dropped her arms. “By now, they’re traditional more than they are legal. Though the social consequences of breaking them are real. The shunning and disinheriting. It’s a good thing most daughters of old families have -- ”

“Ladies and gentlemen, what are you doing?” Grubbly-Plank was standing at the head of the table, frowning deeply, her hands planted on her hips. Everyone had been waiting for their Lobalugs to fall asleep, and as they did, many of the partnerships had draped their arms around each other, leaning their heads together, whispering and giggling. “My word,” Grubbly-Plank scolded. "Valentine’s was yesterday. In this class, you will maintain a professional working stance at all times.”

The cuddly student pairs were properly jarred by her words, unhanding each other and stepping apart, confused and muttering apologies.

“What was that all about?” Sirius asked. Whatever had come over everyone, it had not inspired him and James to start cuddling. Though he had looked over at Marlene and noticed she was looking prettier than usual this morning.

“I don’t know,” James answered, staring out over the tops of the trees, toward the castle. “But I’m missing Lily terribly all of a sudden.”

Sirius craned his neck to check on Peter. There he was, looking physically sick, holding himself up on the edge of the table as Alice held out her wrist, showing him the fine silver bracelet Frank had given her as a Valentine’s gift.

“Remus,” Sirius called, beckoning him over to their side of the table.

“What?” he said as he arrived.

Sirius spoke into his ear. “Did you feel strange at all just now? Before Grubbly-Plank spoke up. Like -- like you could do with a good snog all of a sudden?”

Remus glanced at Narcissa. “No more so than usual,” he said.

Sirius hummed. “Something funny is happening here this morning. I’m not sure, but I suspect there might be some kind of love magic at work. Maybe to throw us off de-venomizing these monsters the Death Eaters planted.”

“You think so?” James said. “I might have felt something a minute ago. But it was for my own wife, thank the stars. And it seems to have passed now."

Sirius stood quietly for a moment, as if checking himself. “Oi, Marlene,” he called.

She turned around, openly annoyed at being interrupted. “What is it?”

While she was still looking her usual lovely self, Sirius’s drive to take her in his arms had abated. “Nothing,” he said, waving her away. “Yeah, alright. Back to work I guess.”

Remus left them, walking back to Narcissa. The Lobalugs were drowsy now, floating instead of swimming. The students were getting into their gloves, preparing to handle the deadly venomous creatures. Remus took his place beside Narcissa. Her hair was still tied up, but a strand of it had fallen along her long bare neck. The mark he’d left on her skin had indeed been healed, and as he tucked the stray hair behind her ear, he dared to swipe one finger along the place on her unbruised white skin where the mark would have been if she hadn’t treated it. 

The caress was subtle. No one but a blinking, pink-cheeked Narcissa seemed to notice, especially when, right beside Remus, a pair of Hufflepuffs tumbled to the ground, snogging the daylights out of each other. 

It was happening all over, pairs of students clasping hands, stroking one another’s faces, and looking longingly into each other’s eyes. Peter crawled under the table to get away from Alice’s ardent babble, thanking him for teaching Frank chess. He was a natural, truly brilliant at it, a delight to watch…

“Sirius,” James groaned. “I miss Lily so much right now I think I might cry.”

It was a good thing he said something, bringing Sirius back to himself when he was about to leap over the table to fall on the suddenly unfathomably gorgeous Marlene. 

Instead, Sirius tore his gaze away from her to find Remus, standing composed but confused next to Narcissa. “Remus, over here,” he called through gritted teeth. “Now. Hurry!”

Alarmed, Remus threaded through the couples Grubbly-Plank was ordering to behave themselves, making his way back to Sirius. As he came, people let go of each other, backing away, embarrassed again.

“Are you seeing this?” Sirius asked James.

James wiped his eyes and put his glasses back on. “Yeah. You’re right, Rus. There's love magic, but it’s not the Death Eaters doing it. It’s coming and going depending on how close Remus is to -- “

“To the Veela,” Sirius finished.

“What about her?” Remus said, his voice rising.

“Easy, mate,” Sirius said, pulling him aside. “We just couldn’t help noticing the change in Narcissa today.”

Remus frowned. “What change? She's as she always is."

James tried. "Alright, but don’t you think she’s exuding a bit of a love magic this morning?”

“Yes, as she always is,” Remus said, frustrated, his voice rising again.

Sirius was understanding. “Always for you, maybe. But now it's affecting more than just you. Look at these people. I reckon you must have made some magical change in her when you, uh, you know,” Sirius said. “Or maybe it was Moony. Creature magic.”

“Moony is me.”

“Whatever you say,” Sirius allowed. “All I’m saying is that since you snogged Narcissa the other night, her Veela nature is now in full bloom. And her liking you is making everyone here like everyone else here far too much.”

Remus scoffed. “You think this pandemonium is our doing?”

“It’s hard to argue with it,” James said. “Look around. Now that you’re over here with us again, everyone just looks mortified with themselves. No more inappropriate snuggling.”

“But if I go back -- “

“No!” James and Sirius shouted at once, grabbing at his cloak. 

“No, no going back,” Sirius said. “I don’t know what to do about this in the long term, but for the rest of class today, to save us all from being squirted with venom, I’ll be the one to partner with my cousin.”

“At least let me explain it to her -- “

“No!” the lads said again, loud enough this time for Grubbly-Plank to frown in their direction.

“Not until there’s no more venom on the table,” Sirius said as he backed away, leaving Remus with James.

The rest of class was uneventful. The Black cousins worked together in efficient, if testy near-silence, Alice regained the ability to speak of things other than Frank, and James and Remus settled into interrogating one another.

“So Narcissa Black,” James said as he gingerly clamped the drowsy Lobalug into place.

“She started it,” Remus grinned as he raised his wand over the creature.

“Yeah? How far did it go?”

“Not nearly as far as you went that same night.”

James smirked. “I should hope not.”

Remus set his wand on the table, digging into the Logalub with a silver probe. “So you’re alright then? You and Lily? No problems?”

James sighed, only a little sadly. “The first one hurt her. Everyone expects that. But you always hope it will be different for you, especially when everyone’s crowing at you about how you’re soulmates.”

Remus hummed. “Maybe that's only right. Maybe soulmates need to understand the painful potential of love more than anyone,” he said. “Since it may not be as obvious to you as it is to other people. Isn’t that what your mum said? That most of the trouble in your life will come from everything else but Lily?”

“I hope so,” James answered. “But I'm suffering for her right now, hating to think of her up there in double Divination class with Snape."

Remus straightened up, pinching their successfully extracted Logalub venom gland with a pair of tweezers. He tipped it into a vial and screwed on the lid. 

James bent over the Logalub to mend the wound left from the gland removal. “Not that Lily's angry about him sending her parents over to the wedding at the last minute. He did us a favour, really. It's better they know from the beginning." 

"But the Evanses aren’t the only ones Snape told," Remus said. "He ran and told You-know-who as well."

"Who?"

Remus leaned in close. "Riddle. Tom Riddle."

James huffed. "What's he going to do about it?"

Remus shrugged. "Nothing good. And he wants you to know that he knows. He sent Malfoy here on Saturday to gloat about finding out."

James shook his head and dropped a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Malfoy's still coming and going freely from the school, is he? Please be careful, mate.”

Remus nodded. "You as well."

————

James threw both his arms over Lily’s shoulders, around her neck as he rushed up behind her in the dungeon corridor to the potions lab. He didn't say a word before burying his face in her hair and breathing in her scent like it was oxygen he’d been deprived of for too long.

She laughed and turned to kiss his cheek. “Hello, my darling. How was Creatures class?"

"Deranged," he said. "There was a Veela there charming people into snogging each other. Making me miss you even worse than I normally would have."

Lily frowned. "They can only do that when they’re in love themselves. Grubbly-Plank brought a romantically active Veela to school?"

"No, Remus did."

"Remus? James, what are you talking about?"

He gave a low laugh against her throat. "It's hard to explain. We'd better skip potions and go upstairs and sort it out."

She scoffed. "I am not falling for that. And I'm not skipping potions. It would break Slughorn's heart."

James moved to hold her from the side instead of from behind. "Who cares?"

"I do," she said, arranging his arm around her shoulders the way she liked it best. "Especially after we couldn't invite him to the -- you know. The poor dear."

He nibbled at her ear. “You do like deer.”

“James Potter,” she said, "do you have news on Remus and a Veela or not?" 

He hushed her and whispered the developments between Remus and Narcissa in her ear. Like everyone, she was concerned about the arranged fiance, that dangerous Malfoy.

“She’s got to leave Remus alone or break up with Malfoy. She simply cannot have them both,” Lily said. “And I’ll be happy to explain that to her if she doesn’t understand it.”

“She doesn’t want both,” James assured her. “At least, that’s what Remus says. She’s looking into throwing Malfoy over.”

“Looking into it,” Lily scoffed. “She’s going to force the two of them into a duel.”

James shrugged. “As long as they duel during a full moon, I think Remus’s chances are spectacular.”

“It’s not funny,” she said. “Remus is clever, and good, and self-disciplined. I can’t imagine why he’s going along with it.”

“Don’t be too disappointed in him,” James said, pushing the door open in front of them. “He and Narcissa will both be in potions with us. Maybe you’ll get a sense of her influence, what the poor bloke is up against.”

Remus and Narcissa were already in the classroom when the Potters arrived, sitting at opposite corners of the room. Severus was Narcissa’s partner, but they lacked their usual close, conniving posture. In fact, she looked tense and angry with him. So did Remus. 

Sirius joined James and Lily as they stood in the doorway. “Great stars, the drama in here,” he said, pushing past, to their usual table. Peter had quit potion in fifth year so it was just the three lads for this hour. Sirius sat next to Remus, sniffing at the air.

“What are we cooking in here today, love,” James said, his chin on Lily’s shoulder as she opened her textbook.

“Generic Skele-gro,” she said. “See, aren’t you glad we aren’t skiving? A family that plays quidditch needs to know how to make their own Skele-gro.”

James still wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t be making better use of their time upstairs alone in the tower, but he said, “I’ll head to the supply cupboard.”

“No you don’t,” she said. “You’re not going into an enclosed space with a bunch of other people when there’s an active Veela around.”

“Why? All she does is make me desperately lonely for you,” James said, taking her hands. “Honestly. People were snogging all over the place and I didn’t even try anything with Sirius during Creatures class. Did I Rus?”

“No, he was nothing but a complete sap for you, Lily,” Sirius said, not looking up from his textbook.

Lily cooed, leaning into James and holding his face, kissing him softly on the mouth.

Remus groaned and covered his face.

It snapped Lily out of her sweetness. “Now Remus, you’re a dear friend of mine. And for your own well-being, I really think -- “

“Not now, darling,” James said. “We need to get the potion started. Off you go.”

“Not you,” Sirius said, pushing Remus back into his seat. “You stay here at a safe distance. I’ll go to the cupboard.”

The Skele-gro smelled awful -- awful enough that it seemed like not even Veela pheromone could overpower it. Near the end of class, Sirius and Remus were short one ingot of alabaster, and since there had been no cuddling incidents, Sirius didn’t object when Remus went to the supply cupboard to get it himself.

“Excuse me,” Narcissa said, rising from their table and leaving Severus to do the final stirring himself. She slipped into the supply cupboard behind Remus and shut the door.

She was fast, darting across the small room and hugging Remus from behind almost before he knew she was there, her face between his shoulder blades, breathing him in.

“They should be safe from me while I’m shut in here,” she said. “Fumes from this cupboard vent outside the castle. I hope that means magical as well as chemical residues.”

Remus dropped his hand on top of where hers were linked together at his stomach. “So Sirius explained his theory to you?”

She scoffed. “Please. I don’t need Sirius to explain being part Veela to me. If there’s anything he wants to know, he can ask me.”

Remus turned around, taking her in his arms. “They say your powers are stronger now, like they awakened when we... But frankly, I don’t see the difference -- “

She laughed and tipped her head against his chest. “You wouldn’t. It’s been like this for you from the start. That’s why it’s all your fault.”

He laughed back at her. “Whose fault is it?”

As she looked up at him, her smile faltered. “It nearly broke my heart yesterday when you didn’t come find me. I was in the library, not studying but reading about betrothal contracts all day, trying to make my way through it all to get to you. And you never came.”

He sighed and pressed his face against her forehead. “We know it’s not safe for me to be with you in places like the library, where people can see,” he said. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t because it wasn’t breaking my heart too.”

She leaned back, her eyes were wide, fixed on his mouth, her own lips parted. He felt a twitch in his face, a rush of anticipation. It had been too long, agonizing. He was going to kiss her again, now with the rest of the class just behind the door. As he bent toward her, he could hear her heart beat in his ears again. But he could also hear footsteps, fast and heavy, pounding toward the door. She was stretching toward him but he pushed himself away from her, turning around and standing as if looking at the alabaster ingots just in time for someone to crash through the door.

It was Sirius, sweating, his hair disheveled. “You’ve got to stop,” he said, his breath laboured. “I told you.”

Narcissa was arguing. “But we didn’t -- and the fumes are vented -- “

“Not good enough,” Sirius said. “Not by a long shot. Come on, Remus. We’re on our way to the Hospital Wing. Snape has attacked James.”

\------------------------------------

No sooner had Narcissa Black closed the door to the supply cupboard in the potions classroom than the room changed. Partners were standing closer, brushing hands, blinking shyly at their notebooks. The atmosphere was less headlong than it had been in Care of Magical Creatures class, but the feeling was the same. 

The change struck Sirius like an alarm. He glanced around for Remus, then for Narcissa. “Oh no they don’t,” he said, his stir-stick clattering in the cauldron of the now ruined potion. He took off his gloves and headed for the cupboard.

Meanwhile, James’s face took on a dreamy look, blinking slowly as he watched Lily stirring. She looked up from the potion, leaned forward and kissed him, but again, only sweetly. Through the door, the Veela magic was not so strong that it could cause her to breach Slughorn’s limits.

Severus Snape, however, was standing much closer to the cupboard door. As Sirius strode toward it, Snape’s gaze drifted up, away from the potion he had been diligently stirring, away from everything in his surroundings that usually restrained him.

Lily.

All at once, her name was in his head, as if a voice had whispered it into his ears -- a cruel voice, taunting. It was a voice he knew and knew to hate: Potter’s.

There Potter stood, on the far side of the room, standing next to Lily as she brewed their potion, like a dutiful little wife. Potter leaned on the table, his weight on his elbow, looking up at her, chattering some nonsense that was making her smile and -- sickeningly -- making her blush. 

Two nights -- they must have spent at least two nights together already, impervious to the schools’ chastity charms, unbridled, with the blessing of the headmaster and their parents. Snape had steeled his mind against it, not letting it tear him apart. It had taken all of his considerable mental skill, and it was all for nothing now. He stood consumed with rage, disgusted at the undeniable reality that, by now, Potter would have seen all of her, touched all of her with his hands, his mouth, her most tender inner self violated with his contemptible, unworthy -- 

Someone cried out, a choked, wet sound. It was Potter himself, falling over the table, already soaked in his own blood.

Shocked, the class looked first to him and then to Snape. He looked down at himself as well, his arm still raised, wand drawn, the room resounding with the sound of his attack. What had he said?

Lily hadn’t screamed but she was sobbing now as she spoke to James, pulling off her tie and wrapping it around his bleeding neck. “James -- no. Don’t talk, love. Don’t -- let me -- Stars, someone help us! Please, there’s more time than this. No. I know there’s got to be more time.”

As two big Ravenclaw beaters bore Potter away, up the stairs to the Hospital Wing, Slughorn was in Snape’s face. “Sectum sempra,” he was saying. “That was your incantation. What kind of spell was that? You tell me this instant, boy!”

Sirius and Remus bolted past him, out the door, Sirius’s shoulder colliding with Snape's hard enough to knock him into Slughorn, who barely steadied him before he would have fallen on his face. 

"Is there a counter-curse?" Slughorn demanded, holding Snape by the shoulders.

"I never meant to -- ”

“Is there a counter-curse?"

"Yes."

Slughorn spun him around, marching him toward the door. "You either cast that counter-curse for Potter, or you leave this school for life.”


	19. Nineteen

The Hospital Wing was chaos. Two burly Hufflepuffs from the seventh year potions class had just come through the doors carrying James Potter. Behind them, a trail of blood led all the way back to the potions’ dungeon. Professor Slughorn and Severus Snape had followed it, and were now standing at James’s bedside while Lily Evans and Madam Pomfrey were pulling off his blood-soaked shirt and tie. He was cut deeply, viciously across his collar bones, just below his throat, bleeding profusely. 

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had thrown themselves in front of Snape when he came in, shouting at him and ordering him to leave, threatening to slash him to pieces in return.

“There’s a counter-curse, you idiots,” Snape was saying. “Get out of the way.”

“You are not coming near him again!” Sirius snarled.

“Gentlemen, we need to approach this rationally,” Slughorn said.

“He’ll approach nothing,” Sirius said, eyes still on Snape. “This evil, jealous, cowardly -- “

“Hexing James while his back was turned -- “ Remus added.

“You never even saw,” Snape said, suddenly raging at Lupin. “You, in the supply cupboard with that girl who plays at being a Veela -- ”

Lupin lunged at Snape, over Sirius’s shoulder, reaching for the front of his robes.

“Shut it!” a voice called over the noise. It was Lily. When the room fell quiet, the sound of James’s quick, shallow breaths could be heard. “Severus come here. If there’s a counter-curse, you must use it to mend him.”

James didn’t argue. He might not have heard, his eyes closed, stripped to the waist, his skin white with shock, but his grip on Lily’s arm showing signs of strength and will.

“Madam Pomfrey?” Slughorn said.

“A counter-curse is always the best remedy, if he has one,” she allowed. "Could take me hours, maybe days to patch him up otherwise, and him bleeding all the while -- dangerous."

“Sev, please,” Lily said.

Sirius began to protest but Remus raised a hand to his chest. “It’s not for us to object if it’s what she wants for him.”

The remark stung Snape. Yes, of course. As Potter's wife, Lily’s say meant more than anyone’s. He spun on his heel, fed up and storming out of the infirmary. Let Slughorn threaten all he wanted.

“Sev!” Lily called after him, tears in her voice. “Don’t leave me like this. Please.”

His face still turned away from her, she saw Snape’s shoulders fall. He was relenting, staying, turning back. 

“Some privacy,” he sneered, brushing past Sirius and Remus as he moved to the bed.

“Yes, let’s wait outside, lads,” Slughorn said. “Come along now.”

Lily stayed close, her red, sticky hands still entwined with James’s as Snape stood over them. He drew his wand and began to intone the counter-curse, a low, indistinct incantation, like a song. As Lily watched, James’s slashed flesh began to mend, knitting itself together. It began on the inner layers and vessels, stopping the flow of blood, and worked outward, Snape’s wand passing slowly over the wound, in one direction, and then the other.

He finished and stood back, the song dying away. The atmosphere in the room was different, something like peaceful. Snape staggered back, drained, disgusted with the damage he’d done, and equally disgusted that he’d been made to mend it himself. 

Colour was returning to Potter’s face. He was clearing his throat, coughing up fluid that Lily was wiping away with her soiled jumper. It was profoundly intimate, dreadful for Snape to have to see, perhaps worse than watching them embrace each other. Even when awful and mangled, she treated his body as precious, as if she loved him more than anything else she had.

Without waiting for a word of thanks or dismissal, Snape was swooping away, Potter coughing behind him, Lily cooing words of comfort and encouragement, Madam Pomfrey dabbing the closed wound with a dropper full of Dittany.

At the door, Slughorn stopped Snape as Remus and Sirius rushed back into the infirmary. He patted his shoulder. “My dear Severus, why would a promising potioneer like yourself craft a spell as dark as that one? What good is magic like that?”

Snape lifted his chin, speaking to the old man through a sickening, sinister smirk. “Precisely. It is not good magic at all.”

\---------------------------------------

Remus used the map to find her, checking it as he left Gryffindor Tower before tossing it back at Peter. “Keep watching it, will you?” he said. “Make sure Snape doesn’t slink back to the Hospital Wing.”

Eager to do something after missing everything, Peter agreed.

Narcissa was in the empty Divination classroom again, sitting on a mound of cushions, staring at an empty, dimly glowing crystal ball, a book open on the table in front of her. With no one else in the room, there was no one for her to drive mad with the influence of her feelings. 

Bloody Severus...

She startled at the sound of the door closing. Lupin, at last. Before she could see him, she could feel him coming closer, like heat from a fire, newly lit, and growing. When his face came into sight, it was impossible for her to smile at him, not until she heard whether James Potter had survived Snape’s mad, jealous attack. And not until she knew Remus hadn’t come to tell her that after what happened in potions class, he would never be near her again.

Remus said nothing at first. She waited, tense as he walked to where she sat. He was sighing as he bent as if to sit next to her. She braced herself for the blow of hearing him offer her wise, tempered good sense. But instead, he was rolling onto his side, and laying his head in her lap, his face turned away from her, toward the crystal ball.

“I’m rubbish at Divination,” he said, nestling his cheek against her thigh as her fingers sank into his hair.

“As am I,” she said, quietly, awash with relief that he’d come to her, and was touching her, still wanting her. “So you’ll have to tell me directly whether Potter is alright.”

“He’s getting better,” Remus said, weary of disaster, sick of talking about it. “He’s weak from the loss of blood, but Snape had a counter-curse so the wound is undone. There’s hardly even a mark, unbelievable as that is. Awful mess though. Terrifying for everyone.”

“Yes, it was,” she said. “Ghastly spell. Severus is not to be underestimated. For good or for -- not good.”

Remus raised his hand and laid it beside his face, on her leg. “Why is your skirt so nice? Our trousers are made of scratchy wool. I thought the skirts were too.” 

She sniffed. “That’s because you’re in Gryffindor. The Slytherins who can afford it know to order their skirts and trousers in cashmere.”

“Cashmere.” He felt the hem at her knee between his fingers. “It’s incredibly soft. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Only the best for your face,” she said, feeling more like herself, smoothing her knuckles into the hollow below his cheekbone. 

He chuckled against her leg, rubbing his face against it, faintly doglike, and in a way she found she adored.

“We’ll have to make the best of time alone,” she said, speaking the good sense herself. “To prevent any more accidents like today’s, we can’t be near each other when there are other people close by.”

Remus sighed. “It’s true. Keeping our distance. That won’t be too difficult. Seeing as we won’t last more than a few months together, tops.”

“What a thing to say,” she said, tousling his hair. 

He sat up, bringing his face into her view. He looked not only tired but sad, even through his hint of a smile. Bittersweet -- that was the best they could hope for. She kissed him, one hand on his face, her eyes closed as her fingers languidly traced the raised lines of his scars. Her motion set a pace different from their first kiss, as if to tell him to go slowly, and sense everything carefully rather than devouring it. There would be time for that, but not all the time.

He understood and leaned into her, eager and open but taking her in a slow, gentle tackle, pushing her back against the cushions. His nose moved against her cheek, breathing in her smell, floral but musky. Her lips were fuller than his but smaller, delicate, inviting.

He pulled back just far enough to speak. “I meant I’d never felt a fabric as soft as cashmere before,” he said, fingers trailing through her hair, fanning it over the pillows. “This is softer.”

“What is? My hair?”

He hummed, lowering his hands to burrow beneath her, pressed into the small of her back, arching her spine up into him. “Your hair, skin, your mouth -- everything of yours I’ve tried. All of it softer, sweeter than anything.”

He was lovely. Too lovely, in need of teasing. “And my teeth?” she asked, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

“They have their charm,” he said, moving away from her bites, down her chin and onto her neck. “Though they may be more to Moony’s taste.”

“But you and Moony,” she began, “are the same,” they finished together, laughing softly into each other’s faces.

She kept her knees together, raised in a peak and tipped to one side as he covered her torso with his. The weight of him on top of her soothed and pleased her, and she held him close, her hands on his back as he kissed her with slow, melting pressure, learning the feel of her. It went on and on, this indulgence of the need they’d felt for each other all day, and the building of more and greater needs.

Finally, he pushed himself off her, his voice in his sigh, his torso hovering over her, propped on his elbows, flushed and short of breath no matter how slowly they went.

“What is it?” she said, rising toward him. “You don’t look like you want to bite me.”

He laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb outlining her lips. “I want to look at you. How could I not want to take a little of our time to look at you, up close like this?”

She rose to kiss his forehead, but the movement was also one of sliding out from under him, sitting up. “You'd better look at me while I tell you what else I learned from reading all about betrothal contracts yesterday,” she said, reaching for the book on the tabletop. 

He sat up sighing again, straightened his clothes, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap with her book, careful not to reveal too much. “How bad is it?”

“It’s fascinating reading, actually,” she said, cracking the book’s spine as she settled into him as if he was a lanky armchair. “Did you know, Lupin, that magical creatures can enter into bonds with each other? Even non-magical creatures can do it, like the swans at my grandparents’ estate. They enter into bonds for life, real ones, but without words or certificates or officials. Not Veelas though,” she hurried to say. “Veelas want human partners to bond with, in spite of all the paperwork that entails. Just as werewolves are drawn to humans to satisfy their hunger, we’re drawn to humans to satisfy -- well.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Lucky eternally bonded swans. Now back to the tedium of human contracts.”

She clucked her tongue. “Weren’t you listening to me in Creatures class? Betrothal contracts are no longer legally binding in Britain. They’re a custom more than a law.”

“Yes, but a custom that will see you ostracized, homeless, penniless,” he said. He was brushing his nose against her ear, muttering, “See, I was listening.”

“Even so, my sister Andromeda survived all of that when she married a Muggle-born man and my parents turned her out of the house. And I think I know how.” She sat up taller, twisting to face him, pleased with her theory. “Daughters of old families generally have a lump sum of gold in their own name, stashed at Gringotts. It’s meant as a dowry, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that it could also be a safety net for girls who cannot abide their arranged fiancés and need to escape. It lets the family support them in advance and still maintain the appearance of having disowned them.”

Remus frowned. “How is that better than simply forgiving them and letting them live at home until they find someone they like?”

She blinked at him. “It’s about honor, of course. Saving face. The family doesn’t have to go down in history as truce-breakers.”

Remus shook his head. “Alright. If they like. So if you broke with Malfoy...”

“I might not be destitute. Not at first. I would have to work eventually -- ”

“Or find another rich git.”

She ignored him. “I think the money is set aside intentionally. It’s a mercy from the family. But,” she paused, “there is a magical aspect to the engagement bond between us as well.”

Remus shuddered. “What does that mean?”

“Vows,” she said. “There was a ceremony when Lucius gave me the opal ring, after the agreement was signed. It was quite formal. You know, flashy but dull, with me in some ridiculous dress, and speeches, and both of us making pledges of loyalty in front of our families."

Remus scoffed. "Loyalty? Oh dear..."

"And whoever breaks them first pays a penalty," she went on. "Usually a temporary suspension of wand use or something else related to magical practice. It’s difficult and humiliating and -- "

“Not honorable?” Remus finished.

She nodded, watching his face as he considered it. Wand suspension was a significant punishment, but with a Muggle for a mother, he knew it could be done. Something else was making him frown. "So,” he began, “how are your pledges not broken already? Surely, snogging werewolves must count against them."

"No, actually," she said. "As long as I don't lose my virginity, I'm safe with you."

He clenched his eyes closed and shook his head once. "What?"

"Well, they had to give the women something after they let men have the engagement period as a time for one last venting of their sexual energy," she said, indignant. "Lucius has certainly never pretended he's saving himself for me."

Remus dropped his head on her shoulder. "I do not understand pure blood families. Not at all."

"Don't bother trying too hard," she said. "It comes down to there being other kinds of betrayal besides sexual infidelity during the engagement." 

His head perked up suddenly, as if he’d just realized something he wanted badly to say out loud.

“What is it?" she prodded when he didn't speak.

He stammered for a moment before choking out a word. "Virginity,” he said. “Don't lose your virginity? So you and Malfoy -- he’s never -- I mean, even though he can take you anywhere, no chastity charms, no chaperones, you and he -- you never -- ”

“Oh, no,” she said, slightly alarmed. “No, he’s never had me. No one has. The closest I’ve ever got to it was -- I suppose it was you lying on top of me just now.”

Remus sighed in such relief he fell forward onto her shoulder again. “Thank the stars. I mean, it should be nothing to me,” he said. “It won’t be me who -- I know that, but -- I’m just glad that for now, while we’re like this… It’s better.”

She cleared a wayward wave of coarse brown hair from his forehead. "Yes, it is."

There was heat rising in his chest. She was moving off his lap, her head higher than his now, hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the cushions, following as he laid back. Her hair fell around their faces as she kissed him, less slowly and leisurely than before, possessive. 

His hands were on either side of her ribcage, fingers splayed, rising and falling with her breaths. She was less Lucius Malfoy’s than he had feared. When she remembered a man’s body heavy on her own, or remembered the body under hers, it would be his, Lupin’s -- at least for the time being.

“Remus,” someone called in a loud whisper from the doorway.

He bolted upright, bringing Narcissa with him, setting her primmly next to him, clearing his throat. “Pete?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, not coming any further into the room. “It’s just that I was watching the map, like you said, and -- he’s here. Lucius Malfoy is in the school right now.”

\---------------------------------

The headmaster paced in his office. Fytherly Undercliffe had just come from the Potters’ manor, where another portrait of himself hung in their upstairs corridor. He had brought back a troubling report when Dumbledore sent him to give the Potters news that James had been injured. Fleamont Potter was ill, so sick Euphemia would not be coming to see to her son.

It was bad, but there was no time to dwell on what it might mean. Not when Lucius Malfoy was swaggering up the stairwell into the office.

“Excuse me, Professor,” he was saying. “I know you sent for my father-in-law-to-be, but he sends me in his place. You see, there’s word of Dragon Pox spreading through the country’s elderly, and as he is on the cusp of old age himself, Mr. Black has asked that I deal with our young Snape. ”

Dumbledore regarded him over the tops of his spectacles. Snape was among the students whose parents did not visit the school. Since Cygnus Black had started bringing Snape home with Narcissa to teach him extra lessons on holidays, he had stepped forward as a contact for him. It had always been a mere formality. But now, after the attack in the potions dungeon, Snape was in need of discipline, and counsel from a mentor. 

Dumbledore, however, was openly dismayed to see Lucius Malfoy sent as that mentor. “This is a very serious matter. It can’t be resolved with mere detentions and scoldings.” 

Lucius stepped closer. “Truly serious indeed. We are truly shocked with Severus. Why, he’s all but,” Lucius faltered, fighting to speak the next words. “He’s all but family.”

At Lucius Malfoy admitted that a half-blood wizard could be anything like his family, Dumbledore’s eyes widened, and then twinkled. He might not have believed what he heard, but it was good to hear all the same. “Very well,” he said.

He set about fussing over making tea for his guest, and a moment later, Severus Snape and Horace Slughorn had joined them.

Lucius clapped Severus hard on the shoulder. “Right, my boy. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Slughorn retold the story of the attack while Snape sat in an armchair, hands folded, eyes fixed on his unpolished shoes.

“I don’t understand,” Dumbledore said. “A sudden, unprovoked, violent attack on a student you haven’t rowed with in years, Severus? Surely something instigated it?”

“Well, yes,” Lucius drawled. “You just said so yourself, Professor. Years ago Severus and the Potter boy were adversaries. Such wounds never leave us. Some fester with time rather than heal. It’s unfortunate Potter didn’t realize that earlier, but he is no less guilty of his past assaults.”

Slughorn grumbled. “I was there too and I suggest a different provocation. There was some talk, even by Severus himself in the infirmary, about one of our potions students being an active Veela. Other students reported having a similar feeling. And, forgive me for saying so, Severus, but if you were feeling a magically intensified romantic jealousy toward James Potter, it is possible you may have lashed out and -- ”

Snape turned his head, leaning away from Lucius as he interrupted Slughorn with a laugh.

Slughorn nodded. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

Dumbledore took it over. “Veela? None of our current students are known to have any Veela nature about them.”

Slughorn gave a mighty sigh. “Haven’t I always said, Albus, that the students shouldn’t still be here with us once they come of age? It’s too much, managing grown adults with their feelings and egos and abilities, coming into their own in all sorts of unforeseeable ways -- “

“Yes, so you’ve said, Horace. But which student is this alleged Veela?” Silence followed, and in it, Dumbledore looked at all of their faces. Snape was twitching and laughing bitterly to himself. Lucius Malfoy looked even whiter than usual, his lip curled, no longer speaking up in Snape’s defense.

Slughorn looked tired. “No one I spoke with would hazard a guess, but -- “

“Oh, just tell them, Lucius,” Severus snapped. 

Lucius lifted his chin, his voice cold. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“For stars’ sake,” Severus spat. “She’s tried to tell me, and Regulus, and you as well. We all laughed at her, but she’s come into it on her own, apparently. That can’t be argued with any longer.”

Lucius veered away, his tone loud and animated again. “What was that spell you used, Severus?” he said. “You’re crafting your own violent spells now, are you?”

“Tell them,” Snape insisted. “Tell them about her in your own way, or I shall tell them in mine.”

Dumbledore smoothed his beard. “The only other Hogwarts student you are connected to, Lucius, is Narcissa Black. She was in the room when Potter was attacked. Are we to understand that -- “

Lucius cut him off with a laugh. “It’s a childish fantasy of hers, yes,” he said. “Embarrassing. I’ve never seen any sign of her being a Veela but her own wishing for it.”

Dumbledore let out a long breath. “Yet, it stands to reason that the closer she gets to a romantic milestone such as your wedding day, the more active her Veela nature would become,” he said.

Lucius sat back, stunned to be suddenly personally implicated in the attack on James Potter. 

Dumbledore went on, nodding. “This needn’t be a crisis, and it needn’t interfere with Miss Black’s schooling. Perhaps you haven’t yet studied such matters, Lucius, but once a Veela is properly bonded to a partner, her influence will no longer diffuse over other people. It will stay within their pair. And since the pair of you have already made engagement pledges, I hope moving up the rest of your wedding plans should not be too much to ask. Not if it preserves order in the school and, ultimately, in the wizarding society that depends upon it. Don’t you agree, Lucius?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He had planned on touring Europe all summer as an unmarried man for the last time. It was going to be spectacular, wild and free and raunchy. And now this. But he was not about to stand here in front of witnesses and break the engagement pledges either. That would leave him spending the summer with no wand at all, not to mention losing everything the Malfoy line stood to gain in yet another alliance with the Black family. 

Dumbledore waited, watching his face. Professor Slughorn sat up from where he’d been slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. “Well, Malfoy? You were always a good citizen of the school. And not just the school. Hogwartd is a pillar of British wizarding society. You won’t let us all down now, will you?”

Lucius swallowed the lump in his throat. “It is not a decision to be made alone. I’ll answer after I speak with Narcissa.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet, clapping his hands. “Horace will take you to her.”

On the sofa beside Slughorn, Snape was laughing again, cruel and low.

\-----------------------------------

Lily slept bent sharply at the waist, sitting on a hard wooden stool, her head on the thin hospital mattress where James slept while his blood replenishing potion did its work. Madam Pomfrey knew who Lily was to James, and she didn’t send her out at the end of visiting hours. Instead, she brought Lily another glass of her special cranberry juice and set it on the table next to James’s head, like a promise of better things to come for newlyweds spending their first day back in daily life in the Hospital Wing.

James stirred in his narrow bed, frowning and rubbing at his chest. It wasn’t much motion, but it was enough to wake Lily. She sprung to sitting, feeling for the pulse in his neck the dim light. It was strong and steady, perfect.

“What are you doing sitting there?” James said, blinking, working to smile.

“I couldn’t very well leave you and go to the tower alone,” she answered. “It’s too cold up there without you.”

“I don’t mean that,” he said. He had taken her wrist and tugged at it, urging her into the bed alongside himself. “There’s no need for you to sleep rough when I have a bed.”

“I wouldn’t call it rough,” she argued, snuggling her way beneath his blanket, kicking off her shoes. “But this is nicer.”

She lay higher on the pillow than him, his face against her sternum, her chin pressed to the top of his head. He sighed through the knit of the clean jumper Marlene had brought her. “Great first day of school as husband and wife,” he said. “Always wondered if Snape had that in him.”

She hummed. “I don’t understand what came over him. He was cold and aloof in Divination this morning, but not enraged, not murderous.”

“It’s not you he wants to murder,” James said.

“But he healed you.”

“Not until he made you cry, begging him to do it.”

“He was under the influence of the romantically active Veela,” she said. “If Remus is too lovestruck to do anything to stop it, Dumbledore will have to. She’s engaged to that Malfoy anyway. I feel sad for Remus, but it’s already doomed. He needs to leave it alone.”

James sighed again. “I know it makes sense when you say it,” he said. “But what if -- what if it was us who was doomed? Just like everyone says we are. Think about it, love. What do we do whenever someone tries to tell us we’re doomed?”

“That’s different.” She smoothed his hair from his forehead, kissing the bridge of his nose. “I’m the doe to your stag. Your twin star. Mother of your dark-hair foretold son. Oh, but let’s not talk about it. I don’t want you upset. I want you to be flawlessly happy as you recover. Like, tomorrow we’ll go up to the tower and stay there, just like you wanted.”

His hold on her waist tightened. “I won’t be happy if I feel like you’re held capitve as my nursemaid,” he said. “It’s not even a week into this marriage and I’d rather not have already turned out like my mum and dad, you spending all your time waiting on feeble little me.”

“You don’t feel at all little or feeble to me,” she said, running her hand along his arm. 

“Where is my mum, anyways?” he said, lifting his head to scan the Hospital Wing for her, in spite of the fact that it was the middle of the night and he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Lily hadn’t thought anything of Effie’s absence. Her own mother never came to Hogwarts. She wasn’t sure she could even see it. But the witch mothers did come when their children were in the Hospital Wing. It happened all the time. “Maybe they don’t bring in parents when you get hurt once you’re of age,” she said.

He shook his head, still worried. “But she’d want to come, no matter how old I was. It’s strange.”

Lily massaged his temples with her thumbs, still set on the losing game of keeping anyone flawlessly happy. “Maybe she’s got some notion about respecting my responsibility as your wife,” she tried.

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But I feel -- wrong. Like something bad is happening.”

She looked into his eyes. “Something bad has happened, darling. Your childhood rival turned some never-before-seen dark magic on you, causing you to nearly bleed to death in my arms. It was bad. In fact, it was,” her voice choked, “the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They were close enough in the tiny bed that James hardly moved at all to kiss her, gently enough to be tender, passionately enough to let her know he was still himself. “I’m alright,” he said, brushing her tears with the tip of his nose.

“The time,” she hiccoughed. “I thought the time might be up already.”

He kissed her again, her mouth salty with crying. “No, we’re still here,” he said as he pressed her palm against his heart. “See? Alive. Together.” He paused, sounding something, a word in his mind that seemed to have arrived from somewhere outside himself, almost like a half-formed prophecy of his own. He spoke it. 

“Forever.”


	20. twenty

AN: The first section has some non-sexual but physical scuffling between a male and female character. If that may bother you, skip to the first break.

Professor Slughorn told Lucius Malfoy the current password to the Slytherin common room and sent him in alone. It was late, but Narcissa Black was sitting in an armchair reading a novel translated out of Italian, dressed in one of her Muggle film star dressing gowns, black satin trimmed with something floaty and feathery. Lucius’s Valentine’s gift, the pearl hairclip, was fastened over her right ear, her platinum hair brushed to a warm lustre which usually would have made him wish he’d fussed over his own hair to bring it up to her level. But not tonight. 

“You were expecting me,” he said as he stepped into the firelit room.

She closed her book, not bothering to mark the page. “Yes, someone mentioned to me they’d seen you come in.” She stood and took two swaying steps toward him. “I was hoping to see you, but you took so long.”

He tilted his head, as if to see her better, differently. “Yes. I need to escort Severus out of the school tonight. He’s waiting in Professor Slughorn’s office. Two day’s suspension for that scuffle with the Potter boy. Effective immediately. He’ll be spending them at that filthy Muggle tenement in Cokeville.”

“Cokeworth,” she corrected, regretting it when his lip curled. She moved to placate him, linking her arm through his, as if they were about to stroll around the room. “It’s good of you to take care of him like this. Poor Severus. I’m sure he’s grateful.”

“He is not,” Lucius said. He covered her hand with his and stared across the room, at the large window looking into the lake. “So very dark down here. I’d forgotten how the moon doesn’t penetrate below the water.” 

“But it does, my gloomy darling,” she said, with a tinkling laugh. “The clouds must have rolled in. Trust me, the moon reaches us here.”

He hummed. “Cissa, you were in the classroom where the attack happened, weren't you?”

“I was,” she said, exaggerating a shudder against his arm. “It was ghastly. But word among the students is that Potter is recovering and won’t suffer any lasting effects, so -- “

“Word among the students,” Lucius interrupted, turning to face her, holding her arms, “is also that Severus’s attack was not completely unprovoked. Word is that there was a romantically active Veela in the classroom at the time the curse was cast. Explain this to me.”

She forced a laugh that was little more than a breath. “I would be delighted if that were true. But as you’ve told me more than enough times, Lucius, I am no Veela. But if I was, what a compliment this would be to you, that my excitement about becoming your wife had been enough to disorder Severus’s mind like that.”

He lowered his eyelids, smiling crookedly. “Your headmaster wishes us to reschedule our wedding day for as soon as possible.”

He wasn’t watching as dread flickered over her features. “While I’m still at school?” she said.

“Because you are still at school,” Lucius answered. “An unbound Veela is, clearly, a risk to the other students. Your influence fills them with mad impulses. So the headmaster has asked that you and I -- bond.”

She didn’t know what to say, standing limply in his hold. Lucius’s hands were clamped around each of her arms, below her elbows, and almost too tightly. She would not move the wedding. But it was too soon to speak of breaking up. She hadn't spoken with her parents, or with Andromeda to find out how she escaped with her dowry. She needed more time.

“We need to know if there’s anything to these speculations, Narcissa. Try to show me again,” he said. “Squeeze your eyes closed and wrinkle your nose the way you used to when you wanted to convince me you were a Veela.”

She breathed the same weak laugh again, looking down at their feet, smiling coyly. “You’re trifling with me. When it comes to this, you always are.”

“I have been in the past,” he said. “I do apologize for that. Today is different. I truly want to see this Veela nature your feelings for me have recently brought to such real and dangerous life. I must, in order to inform our decisions about what happens next.”

She nodded, stiffening her arms and shoulders, holding her breath for a moment as if straining, her eyes closed, but her magic far away. She let her breath out. “Did you see it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She shrugged. “That’s a pity. We can tell Dumbledore I was mistaken about having any Veela nature and -- ”

All at once he tugged hard on her arms, bending them between their bodies so her wrists were held to his chest, their faces close. He did see fear shadow her features this time. 

“What is it, Lucius?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know -- yet,” he said. “Are you not a Veela? Or is it simply that you are a Veela who is not in love with me? How could an entire classroom of wizards and witches who have barely come of age sense it to the point of madness, when standing here with you in my arms, I feel no trace of it?”

He looked over all of her he could see from so close: her tensed arms, the curves of her chest, the flushed skin visible above her low neckline, her neck, hair, her quivering lips and glistening grey eyes. “Narcissa Black, who looks like she ought to love me -- my perfect match in every way. But...” 

He leaned toward her throat, as if he would kiss it, something he’d never done before. She clenched her jaw as if to take a punch. His breath burned against her skin. She pressed her lips together, holding back a scream.

And he withdrew. Without kissing her, Lucius was leaning away. “But no,” he said. “It is as it always is with you. Never loving, but cool and dutiful. Or even…” He leaned into her face now, as if to kiss the tight line of her mouth, but then veering to one side, pressing his cheek against hers instead, sensing its temperature, whispering in her ear. “Ah, this is new. Not cool. Warm, but with revulsion.”

She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Lucius, it’s late at the end of a difficult day. I watched a classmate nearly bleed to death at the wand of a friend who has been like a brother to me. Forgive me if I am less than receptive tonight.”

He walked further into the room, still holding her close, driving her backward in front of him as he went. “A good excuse, but not a sincere one,” he said. He had backed her against a sofa and pushed her to sitting.

“I don’t know what other answer you want,” she said, her voice rising as she bruised her skin, twisting her wrists as he held them tight.

“You don’t have to answer at all,” he said, crowding his face into hers again, his eyes wide. “Be still, and I’ll find out myself.”

She slouched sideways to avoid his eye contact and what was coming with it. He was about to use Legilimency at close range not only without her consent, but against her will. “Lucius, don’t,” she said. “You’re a gentleman, a son of the pure and ancient house of Malfoy. You were raised better than this. Don’t.”

“What else can I do, when you’re lying to me?” he said, his face tracking hers as she sank deeper into the sofa, forcing her to lie on her back, trapping her beneath him.

A gasp escaped her, almost a cry as his weight crushed her from above. She forced out words with it. “What lie have I told? Please -- ”

“Are you truly a Veela?” he said, teeth clenched to keep himself from shouting in the sleeping dormitory. “And who has made you active? It is not me. Who are they? And why are you protecting them? What’s wrong with them?”

She strained against him, wriggling to slip out beneath him, the way Lupin had let her keep her power to move even when lying on her. Lupin…if anyone in Lucius's family or hers knew how close she'd got to a werewolf, they'd kill him.

Lucius was not embracing her. He was not bearing any of his own weight on his arms or legs but bringing it all to bear on her torso, locking her in place. He pressed her ribcage with his, forcing puffs of air out of her which she couldn’t expand to replace. Panic was threatening to set in, but she fought it. She had to compose herself, to perform as an Occlumens. Only she was not practicing in a drawing room with people she could trust, but under attack by someone in the act of betraying her trust.

“Open your eyes,” he growled from above as she panted shallow breaths into his face. “Open your eyes!”

She did. She had to. 

“Legilimens.”

He was in her mind. At the shock of it, she let out a cry and he clamped a hand over her mouth, compromising her breathing even more. Her body sucked air through her nose while her mind, her magic tossed with Lucius Malfoy on the wild inner sea. He was looking into her as if she was a mirror, smooth glass to see through. But with her Occlumency she stirred the water, made it froth and swirl. She let some things rise to the surface for him to catch sight of -- James Potter bleeding into his wife’s hands, Severus standing stunned with his wand still raised, Sirius Black extracting venom from a Lobalug, Lucius himself kissing her hand in the Entrance Hall while -- 

No. Sink him. Every time anything like Lupin began to rise -- the moon, crystal, knights on a chess board, coarse brown hair falling over a high, scarred forehead, or growing sleek in a dense pelt -- all of it had to be forced back under water, sunk into the depths, even as she drowned herself to do it.

It went on, Lucius’s presence in her mind growing frustrated, angry. He couldn’t keep it up forever, and when she thought she couldn’t maintain her resistance another moment, he was spent. His mind was gone from hers, then his body was gone, lifted off of her. She sucked in a huge breath, her wrists aching, tears trailing into her hairline.

Lucius was on his feet, straightening his clothing, pacing away from her to get his walking stick from where he’d dropped it on the rug. They didn’t speak, not a sound in the room but her faintly sobbing breaths. The common room’s exit revealed itself as he spoke the password, and with that, she was alone.

Narcissa sat up on the sofa, looking around the room, blinking, hardly able to believe nothing in it had changed. She went to her room, throwing off her dressing gown and her hair clip. She reached for the flannel pajamas her mother had given her at Christmas. They were well-made and warm but she had thought them childish when she first saw them, ruffled at the neck and decorated with little green kneazles wearing witches’ hats. She pulled them over her shaking body and stood beside her neatly made bed, listening to the slow, steady breathing of her roommates. Not yet.

Lucius would have rushed to collect Severus and left this place already. So she risked leaving her dormitory, trying to outrun the foul atmosphere that had come into the part of the school where she had always felt most safe. In the dungeon corridor outside, she didn’t know where to go but up. She climbed the stairs to the empty Entrance Hall, then the marble staircase to the third floor. That was where the moving staircase rose up to Gryffindor Tower. Her heart ached at the sight of it, the stairs dark and empty, moved away from the base of the tower, pointed in the wrong direction. They wouldn’t move for her.

She climbed them anyway, halfway up to where she could see the portrait of the sleeping fat lady who guarded the way inside. No one was awake. She sat on the stones, and wept.

\----------------------------------------

The sun was high, streaming through the long, narrow windows in the stairway to the top of Gryffindor Tower. Class had started an hour earlier, leaving the dormitory empty, no need for an Invisibility Cloak as James Potter laboured to the pinnacle.

"It hasn’t been twenty-four hours since your injury. Stop this macho nonsense and let me levitate you to the top of the stairs," Lily said from beneath his arm.

"Forget it," he said. "You're not carrying ME over the threshold of our home, especially since I've still never carried YOU through the door."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, macho nonsense. Really, James."

"We're nearly there already," he said, letting go of her, stopping two steps short of the top to rest the palms of his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just gathering strength," he said, his head still bowed. 

Lily patted his back. "Take all the time you need."

He looked up. "There. That's strength enough." And with a wink, he grabbed at her, lifting her off her feet and up into his arms, bridal style. Her squeal still echoed up and down the stairs as he called out the password for the door and dived with her across the threshold before falling into the bed.

She was laughing and screaming as he rolled her on top of himself. 

"Oh, you're very proud of yourself, aren't you?" she scolded between kisses laid all over his face, anywhere but on his mouth as he tried to kiss her back. "A show-off, just like everyone says. The worst husband in the entire student population.”

“Guilty,” he said, flipping her onto her back and kissing her fully, hotly, unbuttoning her cardigan.

She moaned into his mouth, with a tone he recognized as her wanting to say something. He broke away with a crack.

“I cannot express how happy I am to have you back here,” she said.

He chuckled somewhat wickedly. “I’m fairly certain I understand you perfectly,” he said, loosening his tie.

“James, you just finished getting dressed,” she said with mock outrage.

“Mm, terrible waste of time.” He threw his tie over his shoulder and fell on her.

In spite of his burst of energy at the door, Lily felt a difference in him. The fatigue of his recovery slowed his mad teenaged pace, made him careful and deliberate as he loved her. That long, sunny morning in their bed was something new and sublime for her. She had heard such feelings were possible, and she remembered shadows of them from her dreams, but she was still astounded at herself, at themselves.

James could not have been more pleased with himself. Afterwards, he slept as she stayed close, her head on his shoulder, tracing his new scar with her finger. She loved him more every day. It was easy. But she did eventually wish she had something to read, that book of Bathilda Bagshot’s that Effie had promised them as a wedding gift. It still hadn’t arrived from the manor. She watched James as he frowned in his sleep, and she felt it too, the sense he had the night before, like something bad might be happening, somewhere else.

Lily lay with her back curved into James’s front when he stirred behind her, his fingers scratching blindly at his healed wound, rubbing his eyes. “I’m hungry, love.”

“Of course you are. It's lunchtime.” She rolled onto her other side, facing him. 

He stretched. “They aren’t owling up another picnic basket for us today, are they? For the feeble invalid?"

"Not quite," she said smoothing his hair just to have him muss it again. "The lads are coming to visit on their noon hour and bringing lunch with them."

James's eyes widened. "They're coming here? Soon?" He sprang out of bed and ran to the window.

"James Potter, I told you -- ”

“We need to air the place out. And clean up. And -- ”

“Get dressed, for stars’ sake,” she said.

Things in the attic flat couldn't have been more clean and respectable when the lads arrived with Marlene for lunch. Everyone was relieved to see James looking rosy and well. 

That morning in Magical Creatures class, Sirius had partnered with Narcissa while Remus worked in a trio with Peter and Alice. Sirius had managed to get her to tell him that Snape was not in detention, not on cleaning detail, but suspended from school as punishment for injuring James. Malfoy had come to collect him the night before.

"Back in Cokeworth?" Lily said. "I do hope he doesn't bother my parents again."

"Shall we go back and make sure he doesn't?" James asked.

She scoffed. "Only if you want to wind up back in the hospital."

“Oh, so that’s what Malfoy was doing here last night,” Peter said. “We saw him come in on the map, didn’t we Remus.”

Remus nodded, as if unaffected, though he was greatly relieved to hear Malfoy hadn’t come for Narcissa. Everyone knew it, but no one knew what to say about it.

Lily may have been opening her mouth to chastise him about feeling anything for Narcissa Black when Sirius spoke up. “So the school’s chastity charm isn’t in force way up here?” he mused.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Lily said. “It’s not that the space is uncharmed so we can -- be together here. It’s the fact that we’re properly soul-bonded that makes the difference. Our relationship is all blessed and chaste now, isn’t it darling?” 

James hooked an arm around her neck and leaned across her shoulders. “Yeah, the school charms have no effect on a properly bonded pair. I mean, technically, we should be able to do it anywhere.”

Lily made a great deal of noise clearing her throat.

“Not that we would,” James finished.

“Soul-bonded -- just say married. It’s less superior sounding,” Marlene said, biting into an apple.

“It’s not the space itself that’s uncharmed?” Sirius said, sulking. “And here I was about to ask to borrow the place for dates. Did you hear the bad news Marlene?”

She threw her apple, hard, at his head. It was an easy catch for a quidditch keeper. Sirius tossed the apple once more, caught it behind his back, and bit into it himself.

“Knock, knock,” came a painfully prim voice from the open doorway.

Everyone leapt to their feet as Professor McGonagall stepped into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” she began. “But I need a word in private with Mr. Potter.”

It was a simple statement, but it fell over the room like a cloud over the sun. James and Lily’s guests were nodding, stowing the scraps of their lunch in the basket and excusing themselves.

“Miss Evans, you will please stay, of course,” McGongall said, closing the door after the rest of them left.

James held his head high. “You’ve come to tell us what’s wrong with my parents, haven’t you Professor?”

She pursed her lips. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

\--------------------------------------------------

It was Remus who took the lunch basket back to the kitchen, taking the time to walk alone to the bottom of the castle to try to put together Narcissa’s state of mind. For now, it was all he could do, since finding her and talking to her in the middle of a busy school day might cause another fiasco. 

She hadn’t come to breakfast, and then he’d had double charms class with Ravenclaw. When he finally saw her in Care of Magical Creatures, Sirius and Peter had done their utmost to keep them apart. Sirius said she was quiet and not particularly happy while they did their partner work, but being quietly hostile was what not being on speaking terms with an estranged cousin was all about. It told him nothing. It was good to know Malfoy had come for Snape, not for her the night before, but he was still uneasy, and would be until he knew if anything had passed between them.

He was coming up the stairs from the kitchens when he heard his name called from above as if it was a curse. 

“Lupin.”

It was Regulus, standing like an angry sentinel at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him as if he wasn’t the kid brother of Remus’s best friend, the boy who once followed after them, admiring everything they did. Remus sighed. “What is it, Reg?”

“Don’t you ‘Reg’ me,” he said. “Do you know where I found her?”

Remus frowned. “Her? Who did you find?”

“Narcissa,” he said. “My cousin, the one my brother won’t stand up to protect, but I will.”

“Reg, just tell me what’s happened?” Remus said, earnestly worried, dropping his hands on Regulus’s shoulders. “Is she alright?”

Regulus jerked away. “No, she isn’t. She’s so not alright she won’t even talk to me about it. All I know is I was patrolling and I found her sitting on the Gryffindor stairs after curfew last night, crying her eyes out. And in her weepy babbling, all I could make out was Malfoy’s name and yours. Yes, crying over something to do with YOU, outside YOUR dorm.”

Remus grabbed his own stomach, bending at the waist, as if hit. “Last night? On the stairs?”

“I’m warning you, Lupin,” Regulus was saying. “I’m giving you one warning. Cissa told me to forget all about it, but she’s far too kind. If I knew what you actually did, believe me, I’d be in the headmaster’s office reporting it this instant. You stay away from her. She’s as good as married, and if you don’t want both me and Malfoy on you -- “

Remus couldn’t listen to any more. He swore and bolted down the corridor. What class did Narcissa have next? It wasn’t with Gryffindor. Did she still take Herbology?

“It’s no use chasing her,” Regulus called after him. “She was set to leave for home at lunchtime.”

Remus swore louder and ran faster, making for the Floos in the Entrance Hall. She was easy to spot at a distance, bright and shining like a diamond, at least in his eyes. She was still in the hall, dressed in a dark traveling cloak, waiting for Filch to come unlock the Floo so she could leave. But he was in no hurry, rather enjoying having someone waiting for him. 

Remus slowed when he saw her, surveying the hall to check how many people they might drive mad if he got close to her. But then here was Filch, plodding toward her. Regardless of the people, Remus was speeding again, running at her, calling her name. 

Colour rose in her face. He saw it before she turned her back to him. He needed to get her away from here, somewhere safe and private, together. In the pocket of his robes, with his wand and the map, was one other thing: James’s cloak. Like a Muggle magician, in a single fluid motion, Remus unfurled the cloak while pulling it from his robes, winding himself and Narcissa inside it.

She gasped, clinging to him without thinking, blinking out at the hall now that it was shadowed and rippled by the fabric that covered them. “Lupin?”

“This is Potter’s invisibility cloak,” he rushed to say, whispering. “No one can see us, but we’d better go outside before they sense us.”

She said nothing, looking up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

The silence was terrifying. His mouth went dry and he withdrew the slightest bit, letting her know she was free to go. “Un-unless -- “

His words died away as she held the lapels of his robe and buried her face in his jumper, her shoulders shaking as she broke into sobs. He did his best to hold her, one hand above their heads, keeping the cloak in place, the other on her back. “It’s alright,” he said into the crown of her head. “No one knows where we are.”

Steering her toward the main doors, Remus took her outside, and led her into one of the statuary niches, behind a stone knight bearing a large shield. He let the cloak down, draping it over his arm.

“Your nose is red,” he said, smiling pityingly at her. “My poor creature.” He stooped to kiss the end of her nose, holding her face in his hands, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. Her eyes had been half-closed and she opened them fully now, looking up to meet his. He drew in a sharp breath. Her usually grey eyes were flashing gold, eyes he’d only ever seen as Moony, the Veela’s eyes.

“Listen to me, Narcissa,” he said, still holding her face. “You’ve got to take deep breaths, use your voice, say something, bring your human self back before you bring this school to its knees.”

She tried, opening her mouth to speak, but the sound was high and sharp, not language. She gripped his arms, scared. He had no idea what had put her in this state, but she was upset enough that her Veela was asserting itself, as if it had been silent too long, and now, emboldened by his presence, the Veela was taking over, rising up to fight.

“Breathe, Narcissa,” he said. “You can’t do this here with all these children around. Look at me, and breathe.”

She was trying her voice again, more of a cough than a word, but she managed to say his name. “Lupin.”

“Yes.” He let go of her face and pulled her close, long arms clasped around her. “There you are. You’re alright. You’ve mastered it.”

She flung her arms around his torso, burrowing into his robes, human but still wild and open. “It’s my Veela."

“Yes,” he said, stroking her hair. “And she’s lovely, fierce, but she shouldn’t be here right now.”

“He wanted to see her, last night,” she said, her face against Remus’s shoulder, her voice high and trembling.

Remus’s spine stiffened. “He? You mean, Malfoy?”

She nodded against him, her arms around his neck now. “I didn’t show him. I pretended to try, and he -- I didn’t show him. I’m not sure I could have even if I wanted to. She doesn’t love him, you see. She’s particular, singular, and -- “ Narcissa drew in a deep breath. “ -- she may be in love with someone else.”

His arms tightened and he rocked her from side to side. He lifted her onto her toes, his lips against her temple, sighing. “How can she love someone else when she is you, and you are his?”

“I am not his,” she said, her voice low and firm now.

The sound frightened him and he bent to bring his lips to her ear. “Can you please tell me what happened? Last night, between you refusing to show Malfoy your Veela and you ending up crying on the Gryffindor staircase -- “

“Regulus told you?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry, Narcissa.” He bowed his head again, his forehead coming to rest on hers. “So sorry. Sick about it. If I’d known -- Stars, I’ll sleep on the stairs every night for the rest of the year just in case you come looking for me.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, tipping her chin forward to kiss him. It was slow and full of pain at first, as she purged her hurt into him. His voice sounded in relieved surprise, as if he didn’t feel worthy of a kiss after she’d suffered while he did nothing the night before. He accepted it, holding back, letting her lead, open to the touch of her mouth. She was more human than Veela now, taking what she needed with a gentle, aching sweetness he could barely stand. 

This was what she wanted from him all along. Her body, mind, her magic responding to his touch, the feel of him, as if he was a healing draught himself. Her fingers traced the thin band of skin between the top of his collar and his hairline at the nape of his neck. It wasn’t enough. She slid a hand down his neck and chest, his breath hitching as she dragged her fingers all the way to his waist, then up, beneath the lower edge of his jumper. He was too tall for all his shirts and the one he was wearing was already untucked, letting her fingers slip easily beneath it, finding his warm, smooth flank.

He jerked against her, breaking the kiss to sigh her name.

“I’m not forcing you, am I?” she said, her eyebrows lifted. “If you don’t want me to -- “

“Don't want you to?” he said, an incredulous laugh in his voice as he covered her hand with his through the outside of his jumper, pressing her tented finger closer to his skin, flattening her palm against himself, watching her face as her eyes drifted shut, seeing her getting lost in the sensation. “Please, touch me,” he said. “Take your strength from me while you tell me what happened last night. I want to help. Whatever it was, it can never happen again.”

She nodded, as if to answer him. But instead of saying anything, she slipped her other hand into his shirt, holding him from both sides. He pulled her closer and her arms met across his back. He waited, his closed mouth pressed to the top of her head. 

“You can’t say you love me,” she said. “I know. It’s my fault. I haven’t made it possible. But can you tell me if I’m loveable?”

He clucked his tongue, and with no hesitation said, “Of course you’re loveable, you mad thing. Infinitely so.”

“Is it mad though?” she asked. “My father signed me over to a man who’s already betrayed me. Neither of them can actually love me.” She paused, swallowing hard enough for her head to bob against his chest. “Lucius attacked me with Legilimency last night. He was in my mind, tearing through my memories, my feelings, everything.”

Remus growled as he held her tighter. “I’m sorry. You don't deserve violation like that. You deserve reverence, worship."

She trembled in his arms. "Thank you."

He scoffed. "Don't thank me. It's self-evident.” He paused swaying with her, soothing her. “It was us, wasn’t it? Was he looking for us?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I kept you hidden. My Occlumency was stronger than his attack -- barely stronger, but it was enough.”

He hated it. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She pulled her arms out of his shirt and rolled up her sleeves, bringing her flesh into the daylight, her arms bruised purple where she’d strained against Malfoy’s hold. 

Remus held arms in his fingertips, turning them in the light. He kissed the bruises, stopping short of treating them as Moony would, with his tongue. He swore. “Let Malfoy find us. There’s a full moon in two days. By all means, send him looking for me then.”

“No,” she said, holding Remus's face. “Don’t be rash. Think, Lupin. I can make something of this. Something better. I think his attack constitutes a breach of the engagement pledges. I'm getting out, Lupin. You found me at the Floos not running away, but going about what I need to do to get out of the marriage contract.”

He stood back, releasing her body but taking her hands. “Are you sure?”

She shook her head. “No. But I will be. I'm going to Andromeda first, and then, to my parents.”

\-----------------------------------------

James led Lily out of the Floo at the Potters’ manor. The house had been quiet his entire life, but its atmosphere was grave today. Professor McGonagall had dosed each of them with a booster potion against Dragon Pox and sent them on their way.

Hand in hand, they came into Fleamont Potter’s bedroom. He looked tiny in the immense bed, his breath noisy. He was past the pustule stage of the disease, now looking slightly green, and sleeping under the influence of a heavy sleeping draught. Effie sat at his side, looking at him in the muted late afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains.

James must have seen them sitting like this a thousand times, but it looked different to him now. How had Lily looked while she sat at his bedside last night in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing? It would have been just like this.

Effie held out her hand. “Jimsy and sweetheart. You’ve both had your medicine?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“There’s a good lad,” she said as she let him take her hand, but only by the fingertips.

“How did this happen, Mum? I thought you both had Dragon Pox as children. You’re supposed to be immune,” he said, sitting on the bed at Monty’s knee. Lily stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

“A new strain,” Effie shrugged. “We are old, Jimsy. No one can be bothered to find out what’s happened.”

“One of the wedding guests brought it, didn’t they?” he said. “So stupid. How could I have let you -- “

Effie squeezed his fingers. “No, dear. It’s got nothing to do with the wedding.”

“Viruses don’t move themselves around, Mum. People have to bring them.”

“Don’t upset yourself now,” she said. “Just be still. Your father, he’s old and at peace with it. You always knew you would lose us while you were still young, Jimsy.”

Effie meant well, but Lily could see she was making it worse. “Madam Potter,” Lily said. “You must be exhausted. Do get some rest. James and I will stay with him.”

Effie didn’t argue, nodding, rising, leaving for her own room.

James fell into the chair she’d vacated, his head in his hands. “Order of the Phoenix my arse,” he said, letting Lily take his head and rub his temples for him. “Protecting us from dark forces, were they? Look what they’ve done to him.”

“No, wait,” Lily said, climbing into the chair with him, speaking into his face. “If a new strain of Dragon Pox was spreading through the Order of the Phoenix, infecting the elderly, Dumbledore would have it, and so would all the other old professors at school. And we know not a single one of them is sick. Your mum is right. Monty didn’t catch it at the wedding. Now, who else has been here at the manor in the past week or so?”

James didn’t seem ready to follow her line of thinking yet, still sitting quietly, resting his head on her chest. She wouldn’t leave him alone to poke around the house for traces of a recent visitor, but she would look around the room, as if something there would tell her. And then something did.

On the table next to their chair, Lily found the only thing close enough to read. It was a letter from the Ministry, a routine yearly tax assessment on the manor. Only it was not stamped in the routine way with an owl postmark, but certified as hand-delivered by Ministry official Corban Yaxley.


	21. Twenty-one

Remus Lupin and Narcissa Black left school early that afternoon, walking to the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds and apparating together to Upper Ferum. That was the village where Narcissa remembered her long lost eldest sister Andromeda had settled with her family. The problem was, she wasn’t sure where exactly in town they lived. 

“Someone said once that the house has a pond,” she told Remus after they appeared in an alley. “That’s all I know.”

Finding the house was why Remus had come with her -- the reason besides his being on edge about losing sight of her after Lucius Malfoy had attacked her with Legilimency, alone in the Slytherin common room the night before.

He nodded and sprung into action. “Right. We need a phone box.” He was still holding her hand from their side-along apparation as he clipped toward a large red rectangle on the pavement outside a chemist’s shop. “They come with thick, ratty books full of numbers and addresses for finding Muggles.”

“My sister is not a Muggle,” Narcissa said, keeping her hand very still in his, hoping he wouldn’t realize he still held it.

“No, but all her in-laws are,” he said, towing her along, her cloak flapping, “so they’re probably listed.”

She looked pointedly over her shoulder at him as he pushed open the door of the phone box and waited for her to step inside, forcing him to slow down. “Aren’t you clever,” she said as she passed in front of him.

“Not clever, just the son of a lovely Muggle woman,” he said, closing the door and turning to grapple with the book dangling from a cord.

Narcissa hummed and linked her hands around his stomach, leaning on his back, her face between his shoulder blades as he flipped the pages. 

His purposeful movements slowed and stopped. “Now you’ve gone and made me forget their name.”

She laughed. “Tonks, T-O-N-K-S.”

“Right,” he muttered to himself. “Concentrate...”

“You say your Mum is lovely?” she said.

“Yes, of course she is.”

She propped her chin against a fleshier part of his upper back. “Would she like me?”

He huffed. “If you could behave yourself, she might. She married a wizard and raised a werewolf, so she tends to be very accepting of everyone. Lovely, like I said.”

She sighed against his spine. “I wonder if Andromeda will like me. I haven’t seen her in six years, you know. Not since I was twelve, and my parents forbade it. I wonder if she’ll even recognize me.”

“She’ll have seen you in that full page photo spread in the Daily Prophet about your engagement last fall,” he said over the noisy flipping of pages.

Narcissa clucked her tongue and rose onto her tiptoes so her lips brushed the nape of his neck as she spoke. “Lupin, you remember my newspaper engagement photos? You never struck me as the type to be interested in the society page.”

“I’m not interested in society, I’m interested in -- oh, come stand in front of me and help me look instead of distracting me.”

He brought her around himself, his arms on either side of her, his hands not touching her but holding the book in front of them, his head leaning over her shoulder to read it.

“There it is,” she said, pointing at the tiny print. “E Tonks. That will be them.”

Lupin pushed at the dirty glass and they stepped back into the street. Narcissa reached for his hand again but he wouldn’t surrender it, jamming it in his pocket instead. “Best be safe. We might not be the only ones of our kind here, and you could be recognized.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.” She walked at his side along the pavement of the Upper Ferum high street, her hands behind her back, feeling happy, light, and normal, wonderfully normal. The two of them were out together in the world -- a Muggle world, but at this moment, it hardly mattered to her. If she squinted, they looked almost like an ordinary couple of students who might be in love, who might have a future.

They found a map of the area taped to the window of a newsagent’s shop. Andromeda’s address was not far off. They found it at the end of a lane, where the town was turning back into countryside. The cottage couldn’t have been big, mostly hidden as it was by vines, but the garden was the largest they’d seen in the village, complete with a pond.

“Should I,” Remus began, “should I keep myself busy somewhere else, until you’re through?”

She wouldn’t hear of it, and he was standing behind her on the flagstone walk as she knocked on the door. It opened with a click, drifting back to reveal a little girl, maybe five years old, her lavender hair bobbed at her chin.

“Dora, we can’t be opening the door when you don’t know -- Oh.” Andromeda had come to stand behind the girl. She was much as Narcissa remembered her, looking more like Bellatrix than she did like her. Andromeda scooped the little girl into her arms, peering warily at their callers, her hand buried in her skirts, searching for her wand.

“Andromeda,” Narcissa said, “it’s me.”

Her eyes widened and she let the wriggling five-year-old slide to the floor. “Cissie? What’s happened? Is everyone alright? Is it mother?”

“No, everyone’s fine.”

“Thank the stars!” Andromeda cried, her arms around Narcissa, pulling her inside. “Oh my darling girl,” she said, rocking her, tears in her voice as she raced through the six years lost between them. “You smell like home. Look at you. Even prettier in person. And practically a married woman now. Oh, I missed all of your teenaged years. Did you know you’re an aunt? Come meet our Dora…”

Remus was not sure what to do, left standing in the garden as Narcissa was swept inside and engulfed. Then the little girl -- Dora -- who had slipped past her mother’s legs, reappeared in the open doorway, waving him inside, her lavender hair lightening to pink.

Once he was taking up space inside the house, Remus couldn’t be ignored any longer. “Andromeda, this is my -- Remus Lupin,” Narcissa said. “He knows Muggle culture and helped me find you.”

Andromeda stopped wiping her still teary eyes to look him over from his feet to the hair on his head. She let go of Narcissa’s hand, the one with Lucius Malfoy’s engagement ring still on it. “Excuse me for asking, Mr. Lupin, but are you Muggle born?”

“Half-blood,” he said. “On my mother’s side.”

Andromeda hummed. “Dora, darling,” she called. “Show Mr. Lupin how to play checkers while Mum has a word with Auntie. There’s a girl.”

Andromeda crossed her arms as Dora led Remus away, to the front parlor. “So this is what it takes to break your silence and come to me, is it? A tall, brooding half-blood who is glaringly not your much photographed fiancé?”

“He’s not brooding, he’s lovely and -- “ Narcissa caught herself, stopped, and hung her head. “I was going to come to you once I graduated, before the wedding. I thought you should be there with us, after all this time -- “

Andromeda huffed. “Right. So Bella can throw a strop.”

“Yes, well I’m tired of her temper ruling the family. We need to stand up to her. She’s not the only one of us with principles and ambitions,” Narcissa said. “Believe me, Andromeda. No matter what they said, I was coming back for you. In my dream wedding, you and Bella would both be standing up with me, carrying flowers, smiling in pictures. Only now, the wedding,” she didn’t mean to glance into the parlor where Dora was setting up her checkers, but she did. “I don’t see how I can go through with the wedding anymore.”

Andromeda sighed and let her head fall into her hands. “Are you sure, Cissie? You’re not just panicking? Not just throwing in another man, any man to save you from a marriage you don’t want at age eighteen?”

“I’m sure,” Narcissa said. “You must understand. These ridiculous political marriages are shams. Bella believes in them but it doesn’t change the fact that she hates Rodolphus. Not even she deserves to live like that. Come now, the family must have had someone completely unsuitable picked out for you before you found someone you liked better.”

Andromeda shuddered. “His name was Nott. He was old even then. Vile. But your Lucius, he seems from a distance like he was custom made to be your partner.“

Narcissa shook her head. “He chose me like he’d choose a rug to redecorate a room. When I tried to relate to him as a human being, telling him my secrets and trying to get close to him, he laughed at me -- treated me like a child. And then, last night, he forced Legilimency on me.”

The blood ran out of Andromeda’s face. She pulled Narcissa to sit down at the dining table with her, whispering, “I’m so sorry darling. But at least that’s a breach of his pledge. You’ve got your way out. Just tell father and -- ”

“No, I’m not sure I can,” Narcissa whispered back. “Lucius was searching my mind for…”

“For signs of your half-blood Lupin.”

Narcissa nodded. “Father’s taught us Occlumency and I kept him out, but Lucius and I can never go back to playing the happy couple again and he knows it. I don’t know what he’s going to do next. He may be settling in to punish me for the rest of my life. And if I tell father about the Legilimency attack, Lucius will deny it -- “

“Then use a Pensieve. Show the memory. Make it incontestable.”

“If I do that, then Lucius won’t be the only one looking for Lupin. Father and the rest of the family will be too. It puts him at risk when Lupin never asked to be part of our nightmare of an ancient and abhorrent house,” she said. 

“Never asked to be part of it? Well he doesn’t look like he’s here with you against his will either, sat in my parlor minding your niece,” Andromeda said.

“Perhaps not, but it was me who went to him first.” Narcissa dropped her voice even lower. “It's still always me. Our feelings aren’t equal. I fancy him far more than he does me.”

Andromeda sat back, skeptical, staring at Remus screened by an arrangement of dry winter grasses set on the sideboard between the cottage’s dining room and parlor. “Are you quite sure, darling?”

“Yes,” Narcissa said. “Yes, in leaving Lucius, I’m not trying to make a marriage with Lupin. It’s true for many reasons, not least among them the fact that he wouldn’t have me if I begged him. I just want to run away from Malfoy. What happens after that -- ”

“Will probably include the person who has been with you since the start of this change of heart,” Andromeda said, gesturing toward Lupin with her chin. “It may not be obvious to you yet, but -- look at him.”

Narcissa did look out at him as he pretended to be devastated while Dora double-jumped his pieces. Every time she caught a glance of him, Narcissa liked him more. It was ridiculous and made her heart ache. “No,” she said all the same. “It’s difficult with us. There’s more to consider, more to complicate it. It’s even more of a mess than it was for you and your husband.”

Andromeda nodded, as if not surprised to hear there was more to it. She leaned into Narcissa. “Tell me, Cissie. Where did Mr. Lupin’s scars come from? The ones on his face? They look like -- ”

“Childhood accident,” Narcissa said, interrupting. “He doesn’t talk about it.”

Just then the door opened and Ted Tonks was home. Dora’s hair flashed blue and she jumped up squealing from the checkers game she had been winning to welcome him, hopping into his arms. Remus caught his notice first, Ted’s eyes lingering on the marks on his face as Dora chattered about how terrible he was at checkers.

“Here’s Ted,” Andromeda was saying, getting up and leading Narcissa toward him. “Do you remember this little girl, darling? This is our Cissie…”

She kissed her brother-in-law’s cheek, the first affection he’d ever been shown by his in-laws.

Dora was hungry and it was time to get her tea on. Narcissa trailed behind her sister, all about the kitchen, wanting to help with the cooking. Andromeda gave her little tasks to do, not telling her that they were the kinds of things she usually let Dora handle. Ted helped as well but Andromeda made Remus stay out of the small, cramped kitchen. He was assigned to set the dining room table under Dora’s supervision.

“How ever did you learn to cook?” Narcissa asked as she watched her sister bending her wand over a pot of Bearnaise sauce. 

She laughed. “Cookery books, and trial and error. Ted was no help. His parents cook the Muggle way, like your Lupin’s mother would.”

Whatever growing pains Andromeda had in the kitchen were behind her now and the meal was more than fine. When it was eaten, the four of them stayed at the table to have a most vulgar discussion: one about money.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Father had changed things at the bank because of me,” Andromeda warned. “They never saw it coming so it was easy. All I did was withdraw my entire dowry and walk out. It’s how we paid for this cottage and lived independently until the furor blew over and we could look for work. That took longer for me than for Ted. For ages, Father had Snatchers out looking to drag me back and I had to hole up here.”

“Wasn’t just hiding. She fought them off more than a few times,” Ted said. “I’d get back from work and find the whole garden blasted with hexes. Yes, this sleepy little cottage was once a fortress.”

“So what I mean to say,” Andromeda went on, “is that the money was indispensable. You might want to make your plans based on whether or not you can get it. We would have had nowhere to go without it -- might have ended up living with Ted’s family, as Muggles for stars know how long.”

Narcissa watched Remus as he stared at the table cloth. Was he imagining her at his parents’ house in Cardiff, imagining teaching her to do the washing up? But no, they weren’t like Ted and Andromeda. This wasn’t about planning another scandalous elopement. All it was about was herself getting out of the arrangement with the Malfoys.

“And Mother and Father are going to be more heartbroken when you tell them you’re quitting Malfoy than they were when I left with Ted,” Andromeda added. “Especially if you -- wind up with someone they don’t like in the end, they’ll see it as their second failure as parents.”

“They need to realize it’s none of their business,” Narcissa snapped.

“Well they won’t,” Andromeda insisted. “Certainly not when it’s you, Cissie, their precious baby girl.”

Narcissa gave her head a sharp shake. “Not precious enough to hold back from dealings with the Malfoys. No, I think they’ll be fine -- angry, definitely; heartbroken, no.”

It was dark, an almost-full moon lighting the lane as Narcissa and Remus took their leave. Andromeda and Ted stood watching them go, little Dora in Ted’s arms where he’d kept her even since the sun set and Remus had begun casting twitching, furtive glances out the window, monitoring the progress of the rising moon.

Andromeda began with a mighty sigh. “Do you reckon he’d be registered?”

“He said his father works for the Ministry, so I would assume so. But don’t go jumping to any conclusions until we know for sure,” he said.

“I'm sorry, but can’t let her do this, Ted. I’m not like my parents. I’m an open-hearted woman, but this? What would their children be like? What if there was an accident and he -- “

Ted set Dora down and took Andromeda in his arms. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is about the Malfoy problem, not the -- the Lupin.”

She sniffled into his shoulder, her emotions piqued again. “It’s not fair. I just got my baby sister back in my life, Ted. I can’t lose her to some gruesome romantic schoolgirl antics.”

“We won’t let that happen,” he promised. “But sit tight for now. We’ll start tomorrow with a check of the registry.”

\--------------------------------------

It wasn’t at all like he’d always imagined it. James was leading Lily into his childhood bedroom as his wife for the first time, and it wasn’t a giddy fantasy come true. It was a slow trudge, Lily leading him by the hand, closing the door behind him, shutting out the scene of his father’s quiet death unfolding in the rest of the manor.

The room’s lamps and fireplace came to life as the door closed. James scanned the room, as if he didn’t know it, as if it looked different to him now.

“Go ahead and get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll go back and sit up with Dad.”

“He’s sleeping, James,” she said. “Your mother is sleeping at his side in that enormous bed of his. They’re both so peaceful, and they may want this time alone together. I know if it was you, I would.”

James dropped his head into his hands. “She’s sick too. They told us she might be, and it’s true. I saw the marks on her hand when she let me take it.”

Lily stepped forward, slid his glasses off his face, and cradled his head in the crook of her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry. Come on,” she said. “Lie down with me. You can check on them again in an hour or so. But you need some relief.”

He sighed and rolled his jumper up his torso, Lily helping him ease it over his head. When they were both dressed in one set of pajamas -- Lily wearing the top and James the bottoms -- he slumped toward his bed.

“Which side do you like to sleep on when you're here?” she said.

He threw the covers back, exposing the sheets. “I've taken the middle, my whole life. Little spoiled brat who never had to share anything, sleeping in the middle of this bed.”

Lily turned to face him, kissing his neck as he started to cry. 

“If they die,” he said, his cheek pressed to her hair. “If they both die, I don’t have any family left. Just -- “

“Just me,” she said. “Me forever, and our son.”

His arms clamped around her, pulling her onto bed, sitting her in his lap as he sobbed into her collar. 

“Sweet darling, I can’t replace them,” she said, leaning into him, moving him to lie on his back, then pulling the plush downy blankets over them. “I’m so sorry. But I’ll love you in my way. And baby Harry will love you in his.”

“Harry?”

“Yes,” she said, propped on one elbow at his side, combing his hair with her fingers, kissing his forehead. “You remember our battlecry, when you were first meeting my family and they made it so difficult? From Shakespeare, Henry the Fifth: ‘For Harry, England, and Saint George.’”

He wiped his eyes on the pillow. “Harry,” he said. “Our Harry.”

She lowered herself to the mattress, moving against him, her hands on his waist smoothing his skin, her mouth high on his chest, laying a track of slow, wet kisses. For the moment, the tension of grief was leaving him, transmuted into a different energy. 

“You are so loved, James. So loved. I love you. Our Harry loves you. Be strong.”

He answered with a shift, pulling her underneath himself, finding her, all of her. His desire for her felt like strength and he didn’t question it, just embraced it. It was slow and shaking again, the meeting of soulmates, not eighteen-year-olds new to marriage, but partners forever.

It was enough to soothe him to sleep, an arm and a leg draped over Lily’s body as she lay awake, eyes open in the dark, thinking of the name she’d read on the tax assessment in Monty’s room. Who was Corban Yaxley of the Ministry of Magic? And why was he hand-delivering routine mail to the manor? Death Eater -- he must be a Death Eater, coming here to lash out at James and Lily's loved ones now that they were a bonded pair of soulmates, too powerful to be trifled with themselves. 

There was no way to tell who Yaxley was from his signature on the letter, and there was too little time to find out by careful sleuthing. But there was someone she could go to and ask immediately, tonight, the Death Eater she knew best of all. There was Severus.

She kissed James’s hair as he slept, before she slid away from him, over cold sheets, out of bed.

\-------------------------------------------

Without discussing it, as Remus and Narcissa stepped through the gate of Andromeda’s garden, into the dark, empty street, he took her hand in his and shoved them both into the outer pocket of his robes. “It’s chilly,” he said, as if it needed explanation.

She smiled, bringing her free hand across her body to hold his arm. Inside his pocket, he gave her hand a squeeze, and tipped his head sideways to touch hers.

That was it.

“Before we go back to where everyone is watching and reacting to us, I want to tell you something,” she said.

“Go on then.”

She cleared her throat and stopped walking, waiting for him to turn toward her, to look down at her upturned face, at her grey eyes lit with moonlight. “I like you,” she said.

There was a pause before Remus breathed a laugh. “I suppose that’s hardly shocking, since I -- “

“No, I actually, truly like you,” she insisted, shaking her hand inside his robes. “You’re not just a gorgeously angst-ridden, lust-driven snog. Though -- though you are that. But -- what I mean to say is -- I like who you are. You’re kind and brilliant and we can laugh and you make me feel precious, for the right reasons, perhaps for the first time in my life. So I really like you, Lupin.”

He reached for her other hand, holding both of them now, and stooping to bring their faces level. “You should know that, especially this close to a full moon, my hearing is uncommonly good. And I cannot believe you told your sister that you like me more than I like you.”

She cocked her head to one side. “But it’s true.”

“It is not,” he said, still holding her hand as he curved his arm around her, bringing her own fist into the small of her back. “Whatever made you say such a ridiculous thing?”

“You did,” she said as he raised her onto her toes, pressing their fronts together, her heart rate climbing, no doubt thundering in his ears. “You never make a first move with us. It’s always me. Well, except for that time you were drunk and that time you were a werewolf.”

He scoffed. “What about today, when I ran to you at the Floos?”

“You ran at me with an Invisibility Cloak. It voids the whole transaction.”

He sighed a laugh into her face. “Can’t you see that this is me caring about you too much to not be cautious?”

“Fine, but I care about you too much to BE cautious,” she said, as if it bested him.

He bent lower, brushing his nose on either side of hers. She opened her mouth to kiss him but he held back, close, but only speaking against her lips. “You are very sweet, Cissa.”

“You called me Cissa -- “

“Yes,” he said, dragging his full lower lip upward over her top lip, “and you somehow seem to have no idea how charmed, and smitten, and utterly mad I am for you.”

She pulled back just as he was closing in to kiss her. “But do you like me?” she said. “If I’d never thrown myself at you, if we never wanted to touch each other, if I smelled of filthy socks, or something, would you like me?”

He laughed and held her tight, turning in a circle. “You mean, if you were your cousin Sirius?”

She swatted at his shoulder. “I am trying to be serious,” she said. “And you love touching him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He stopped turning, standing still on the pavement, holding her, speaking softly and close to her ear. “Of course I like you. There’s no one I’d rather spend a tense evening meal in the home of an estranged relative with than you.”

Her arms were bent between them, her left hand closed in a fist. “Do you like me enough to take Lucius Malfoy’s ring off my finger?”

She had said it lightly, like a joke, but the smile faded from Remus’s face, the sheen of the opal flashing between them in the light of the moon. “I like you enough to think you should keep wearing it, for the protection it affords you, until you are well and truly free of him. He’s dangerous, but he’s also too proud to damage what he thinks is his. And once you’ve finished with him, you should take the ring off yourself.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Cautious and noble too.”

“Because I care,” he finished, lifting a hand to smooth her hair as it shone in silver white light.

“If we’re going to kiss properly before we go back to the school, you’re going to have to make the move yourself,” she said, her lip pushed slightly forward, pouty, enough that Remus couldn’t resist bending to tug it into his mouth, swaying on the pavement as he kissed her. It was cold enough now that her mouth was like a flame, a point of heat spreading through him the longer they went on. 

In the part of her mind that always told the truth, Narcissa knew that liking him, in combination with everything else she felt for him, was a feeling with a name. She wouldn’t say it to him tonight. But she was now sure that, future or not, at this moment in Upper Ferum, she was in love.

\------------------------------

With a crack, Lily Potter, dressed in a heavy cloak, arrived in Cokeworth on the pavement in front of the row of houses where Severus Snape was spending his school suspension for nearly murdering her husband. With a burst of energy from her wand, she rattled the pane of his upper window, as they used to do in the old days when they needed to summon each other.

No light appeared behind the grimy glass. She waited, gathering her cloak against the cold, about to raise her wand a second time when he stepped out of the shadows at the end of the row.

He craned his head from side to side. “You’re alone?”

“Yes,” she said.

He was speaking quickly, pacing. “I don’t understand. The counter-curse should have worked. Potter should be fine.”

“He is,” she said, snagging his arm to stop the pacing. “It did work. He’s well again, but his parents -- they’re deathly ill.”

There was a twitch in one side of Severus’s face.

She nodded. “You already know. That’s what I thought.”

“I have no idea what you mean -- “

“Save it,” she said. “Just tell me if you know someone called Corban Yaxley. He works for the Ministry. Is he one of your people?”

“Yaxley,” Snape repeated, as if trying to remember. “Norman Yaxley?”

“Corban Yaxley. Do you know him?”

“So many names to keep straight among our ranks now, the movement is growing daily, dozens of new members every week. How could I possibly -- “

“Listen to me, Sev,” she said, holding him by his sleeves. “I have reason to believe Corban Yaxley administered a bio-magical weapon to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. In the morning, I’m going to take an item which may have traces of the weapon on it to Professor Slughorn for analysis. But since both of the Potters are fading fast, I came to you first. I need to know. Is Yaxley a Death Eater? And why attack the reclusive old Potters?”

“Leave it, Lily,” Snape said, turning as if to go back into the house.

Her grip on his sleeves tightened. “I can’t. They’re my family now. They need my protection.”

Snape turned in a circle on the pavement, dislodging her hands, his cloak swirling around him. “Desist. You cannot shelter them from the Dark Lord. You cannot shelter anyone, nor even defend yourself. His powers are matchless -- ”

She stomped her foot. “That’s what he wants you to think, but I don’t believe it. James and I are stronger now we’re together. We will beat him. I can feel it, like a prophecy -- “

“Stop your nonsense!” Snape roared, careless of the sleepers in the windows above their heads. “It is futile. The Potters are lost. And they’re not the most helpless people in your family, are they? Not by a long way. At least the Potters are wizards. If you need a cause to sacrifice yourself for, think for a moment of your own parents.”

His words hit her like a curse, a wave of cold dread she could feel in her stomach. “My parents,” she said. “Stars, Severus -- my parents. If they’ve already targeted the Potters, then my parents -- they’re next, aren’t they?”

“Lily, don’t go.”

He was reaching for her, his fingers nearly grazing her whirling cloak as she turned on the spot and apparated across town to see to her family.


	22. Twenty-two

Lily stumbled out of her apparation and into the front garden of her parents’ house. As the echo of her arrival died away through the hard-paved street, the night went quiet, no sounds of trouble in spite of Severus Snape’s warning to look to save her own parents, not just James Potter’s.

The quiet was uneasy somehow, and she had to be sure her mum and dad were safe. She let herself into the house. It was dark, silent, everyone asleep. She flicked on the lights to find Mitch's work boots at the door. He wasn't at the plant on a nightshift, he was here.

Without turning on any more lights, she found the stairs and made her way up. On the landing, Lily rapped softly at the bedroom door. "Mum?"

There was a rustle of sheets, the squeak of bed springs, and Cheryl’s deep smoker’s cough rattling herself awake. "Lil-lay?"

“Yes, hi. Sorry to wake you.” She came through the door, letting herself fall over the foot of the bed in relief. 

"What is it? What's he done?" Cheryl was sitting up, alarmed. "I was afraid it would be like this, marrying an 18-year-old spoiled rich boy. You leave with half of everything, Lily. Half. No matter what -- ”

“Mum, no. No, it's not James,” Lily said, waving her hands. “It’s just that there's political trouble in wizarding Britain right now, and I was worried it might have splashed on you. So I'm checking, and you're fine.”

Mitch rubbed his eyes, rolling onto his back. “Politics? What's that got to do with us, or with you, for that matter. You’re a schoolgirl. And where is Jim? Sending you out at night alone…"

"He's with his parents. You remember how frail they are. They're both quite I'll. I slipped out on my own while he got some rest," she said. "But there's nothing to worry about here. Go back to sleep. I'll see myself -- ”

At the moment, glass shattered in the bedroom window, flying inward, blasted from the street. The Evanes ducked their faces into the bedspread as the shards tore through the room. When the high squeal of the breaking died away, there was the sound of low, mad laughter from the garden below.

Lily sprung to her feet, wand drawn, the hair on her arms standing on end as she crept over broken glass toward the empty window pane. 

"Come out, ye Mudblood slut! Come out and give yourself up or we're coming in to carve up yer filthy mum and dad."

Lily staggered as Mitch pulled her backward, both arms around her waist as if to carry her off like a naughty toddler. "Get back, love. You're not giving yourself up to anyone, not when they're smashing windows and speaking to you that way."

For a moment, she was limp in his hold, heart broken, realizing that Severus hadn't warned her about danger, he had set danger on her. He must have let these Death Eater thugs know she had gone home, apart from James, into a house full of vulnerable Muggles she would do anything to protect. For all she knew, Severus was standing outside with them.

She pulled at Mitch’s arm, trying to free herself. "Dad, please let me go. I can handle them. Let me go out and you and Mum can be safe -- ”

“Be safe from who, exactly?" Cheryl called rolling off the bed and crouching on the far side of it, out of the blast zone. "Are those fine statesmen out there your wizard politicians?"

There was no time to answer. The room was lit green with a volley of hexes shot through the window, singeing the wallpaper. It was a diversion. Downstairs, the door splintered on its hinges, and the hall was full of more profane demands that Lily give herself up.

"Dad, please," she said as he hauled her up the stairs to her own empty bedroom, Cheryl pushing them from behind. "Let me go to them. Mum, listen to me. Tell him to let me go down."

Cheryl scoffed as they bounded up the stairs. “Not at all. I count three armed grown men against one teenaged girl with a magic stick. You'll stay with us.”

Lily's parents bundled her into the upper bedroom, slamming the door closed and hefting Petunia's empty bed up against it, a barricade, upright like a second door.

The voices were in the stairway now, yelling at each other, arguing. "I said take her quietly. She'd have easily exchanged herself for her family without any violence. There was never any need for -- ”

“Shut him up,” someone bawled. There was sick laughter and the thudding and grunting of something bony pushed down the stairs.

Hexes were flying again, blasting through the door, bursting into the smoking mattress, whizzing over the Evanes’ heads as they crouched on the floor. Cheryl and Mitch fought to hold the bed in place, bracing it with their shoulders.

Lily sat up, firing back, flashes of red answering the green light.

"Get down!" Cheryl shouted.

"They're breaking through. I can't let them hurt you!" Lily called back.

The bed lurched forward with the force of the raiders outside, sending the Evanses scrambling to push what was left of it back into place.

"The cupboard," Mitch said to Lily. "That birthday gift you never opened from Jim, it's in the cupboard there. A flying broom. Take your mother and fly off. I can’t make it work, but I know you can."

"But Dad, you -- ”

“Go!"

Lily crawled on her stomach to the cupboard door, flung it open, and found a brand new ridiculous luxury broom inside. It was longer than usual, something James must have picked out imagining them riding it together. She looked to where her parents were losing ground as they pushed at the bed to bar the door. The top half of the bed was blasted away, and the men outside were now visible through the gap, their wands raised, grinning and mad with cruel laughter.

They were coming. 

"Stop! Alright, don't hurt them!" Lily called, raising her arms and dropping her wand to the floor. 

It was over.

And then the house was shaking, a mighty crack ringing through it as James apparated into the centre of Lily’s bedroom. Quidditch captain-like, his senses took in the entire scene as he stood barefoot in pyjamas bottoms and his school jumper on the rug. Lily’s hands were already raised and he grabbed one and pulled her to her feet as she summoned her wand. Without a word they knew to link arms and cast a shield spell in unison, barring the door with a rippling, streaming force. The men outside shrank back, startled by the strength of it, its roar like a high wind, its light golden and shimmering. The air smelled of their singed clothes and hair.

But they were recovering their strength, bombarding the shield at close range, angry now, set on destruction and revenge.

“James, the broom,” Lily said, holding the shield with her wand raised as he turned to Cheryl and Mitch.

“Yes,” he said, feeling rather pleased with past James for leaving it in the house. It leapt into his hand and levitated in front of him. “Come on, Mitch. Up you get. I promised you a ride.”

Mitch and Cheryl were getting to their feet, gaping wide-eyed and disbelieving between the roaring golden light and the floating broom. “Us? Get on the broom? Just -- just like in a cartoon?” Mitch said.

James didn’t understand but there was no time to sort it out.

“Quickly,” Lily called over her shoulder.

Mitch and Cheryl straddled the broom behind James. “Hold onto me Mitch. Cheryl, hold him. Lily will come after you and keep you steady, as soon as the shield charm is down. But we’re going to be moving quickly. Don’t let go.”

“James!” Lily called.

“Yes, now!”

She slashed at the air in front of herself, bringing the shield charm down and sending out a stupefying spell that sent the thugs hurtling backward down the stairs. They were yelling and swearing, regrouping and remounting the stairs as James maneuvred the broom out the window. It was made for two but carrying four, two of them Muggles, so he didn’t dare jolt to top speed, as he would have if he was riding alone. 

They were still moving slowly as they passed over the front garden. Below them stood one more wizard, his white face reflecting the streetlight and the light of a nearly full moon, his wand drawn and tracking them as they flew. As he aimed at them, Lily aimed at him.

“It's the Scissors boy!” Cheryl called.

Through the dim night, Lily and Severus Snape looked each other in the face, wands still raised, never lowering, but never firing either as James wheeled the broom out of sight.

“Everyone alright?” James called over his shoulder.

“Don’t mind us, just drive,” Cheryl called back.

“He’s a fine flyer, Mum. You’re perfectly safe,” Lily said. “But it will get a bit cold and uncomfortable.” 

“Let me know if you need a rest,” James said. “It’s another twenty minutes to my house by air.”

“Just go,” Cheryl said.

He did, freezing himself in the March night air with nothing on his hands or feet, absorbing the brunt of the wind as his passengers huddled behind him.

Finally, the manor was in sight and James was setting the broom down on the lawn in front of the house. Mitch and Cheryl crumpled to the ground, tense and exhausted, still in their sleeping clothes and house slippers. Cheryl left her arms around Mitch's waist, her face in his back as they lay panting in the scrubby spring grass.

Not caring that her parents were close enough to watch, Lily threw her end of the broom down and rushed at James, leaping at him, her legs clamped around his waist as his arms clasped her. She was kissing him, hard and hungry on the mouth. 

"You came. My perfect darling, you came and helped me save everything I care about."

James grappled with her legs, holding her up and asking her, “Yes, always. But why did you leave without me?”

She pulled back, smoothing his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect a trap when I left. I just wanted to question Severus -- “

“Bloody Snape -- “

“And you came after me anyway,” she said, her arms around his neck even as she set her feet back on the ground. “You knew right where I was and what I needed.”

James blinked behind his lenses. “I did, didn’t I. How -- how did I do that?”

Cheryl and Mitch were pulling each other to standing. “Jim, your feet must be frozen solid,” Mitch said. “Get yourself indoors, son.”

Inside the manor, Jim took the Evanes to the room Peter used when he came to visit. He lit a fire while Lily made tea, and they all tried to work out what had just happened.

Lily sat on the rug by the fire and pulled James’s still cold feet into her lap, cradling them in her hands. “So when he realized I was in town, Severus sent me home on a fake rescue mission. And then he sent the Death Eaters after me while I was on my own and they had a pair of hostages they could take.”

“What, Scissors did that?” Cheryl said. “But wasn’t he standing in the garden watching us leave without trying to stop us? I thought he'd come to help.”

Mitch shrugged. “Either that or he thought better of turning his childhood mate over to the -- the Death Eaters is what you call them?”

“It’s what they call themselves,” Lily said. “Poor Sev, he’s not really one of them.”

James scoffed. “Isn’t he?”

Lily shook her head, as if waking up. “James what happened here to get you to us in time?”

“I don’t actually know,” he admitted, sliding out of his chair to sit with Lily on the rug, folding them both in a wooly blanket. “I was here in bed, suddenly not asleep but sitting up, sweating, heart pounding, and I realized Lily was gone and it was -- wrong. It was so wrong. So I threw on some clothes, drew my wand, and apparated. I wasn't even sure where I was going. I just vanished -- “

“To Lily's bedroom,” Cheryl said. “I thought you people could only do that with places you've been before. Come on, Potter. When have you been in the girls’ bedroom?”

“Mum, stop. He’s my husband,” Lily said.

“Sure, he is now, but -- “

“Oh, please, mother -- “

“It was a soulmate thing,” James said. “It must have been what told me where to go. And the shield spell, that was soulmate magic too.”

Lily took both of his hands. “Yes, the gold shield. That was marvelous.”

“That wasn’t just your ordinary magic?” Mitch said.

“No, Dad,” she said, still beaming into James’s face. “That was special. We cast it together, two of us making something powerful enough to stop three other people.”

James let go of her hands and pulled her close. "This is why they're scared of us. Why they only ever attack us alone. Why we must stay together."

Cheryl sighed. "Well, that is lovely. But what now? Those Eaters have overrun our house."

"And I'm supposed to be starting seven days on at the plant," Mitch said. “I can call in with a family emergency for tomorrow, but after that -- “

“You can’t go back,” Lily said. “Not right away. And maybe -- maybe never again.”

“Lily, we can’t do anything else,” Cheryl said. “Cokeworth is our life, our jobs. There are probably police at the house right now, wondering what’s become of us. And then there’s Petunia. We need to let her know what’s happened.”

Lily wrung her hands. “Two days,” she said. “Call in sick and give us two days to sort something out. If you go back, those Death Eaters will pick you up again to trade you for me, and I won’t say no. I'll go to them if it means getting you back. So stay.”

Cheryl hung her head, smoothing the downy covers of the bed she sat on. “Two days. I don’t know what it will change in that time, but since we’ve nowhere to go anyway…”

She trailed off, looking across the bed at Mitch. He shrugged. “Two days.”

\----------------------------------

The manor was settling back into sleep. James had stolen into his father’s bedroom and found his parents still sleeping peacefully. Though they sounded the same as when he left hours earlier, they looked worse. Monty’s skin tone was no longer green but yellow, a colour someone more experienced than James would have recognized as the colour of imminent death. 

Effie was more shocking. When she had greeted him earlier that evening, looking like herself but with marks of faded pox on her hands, she had been using a glamour. She wasn’t able to sustain it in her sleep and James now saw the full extent of her illness. She was not at the beginning of the pustule stage, but at the end of it, most of the sores closed over, but her skin was now greening.

He looked at the clock on the wall. In a few hours, after the sun rose, he would call Aunt Bathilda, and hear from her what Effie had told him the doctors had said: that there was nothing more anyone could do.

He went back to Lily, to sleep.

Cheryl insisted on helping in the morning. Without any cigarettes, she was jumpy and cross and wanted to be working. She helped Lily as much as she could in a magical kitchen while James prepared an owl to send to Bathilda and Mitch did the washing up from the sad, tiny meal Effie had tried to feed to herself and Monty the night before.

Mitch whispered a swear at the dishwater. “Jim, I had no idea your parents had it so rough.”

James hummed miserably. “It’s a new strain of an old wizards’ disease. It’s only attacking the elderly so no one is too bothered about looking for a cure.”

Mitch shook his head. “Awful. Just awful.”

Bathilda arrived, lifting her eyebrows disapprovingly at the Muggle guests and getting away from them quickly, up to Monty’s room.

“They won’t eat this morning,” Lily said. “Mum says that is a very bad sign. We haven't been able to wake Monty since we came.”

“Your mother is right about the signs,” Bathilda said. She stood over the bed. Monty didn’t stir as she pulled at his eyelids and listened to his heart, her head hovering over his chest. She clucked her tongue as she covered his sleeping body.

Effie woke up but didn’t seem to have the strength to sit up any longer. “ ‘Tilda,” she said when she recognized her friend standing over her. “Is it time?”

Bathilda had taken her Dragon Pox booster as soon as word came that the Potters were ill, and without much fear, she took her Effie’s hand. “Only you can tell me when it’s time, my dear,” she answered.

Effie’s head moved, as if trying to nod. “When we’ve finished, give the sweetheart the book. She’s been waiting.”

“When you’re finished with it, Effie dear. Yes, I promise.”

She patted Bathilda’s hand and fell back to sleep.

The day was slow and sad. Monty sleeping away. Effie was more wakeful. She opened her eyes as Cheryl leaned over her to wet her dry lips with a damp cloth.

“The sweetheart’s mother,” she said.

Cheryl breathed a laugh. “Is that what you call our Lily? Yes, that’s me. I’m back here already. Can I get you anything, Madam Potter?”

“Effie,” she rasped. “It’s just Effie. Sit a while.”

Cheryl nodded, moving to the armchair at the side of the bed.

“No, here,” Effie said, patting the mattress beside her. “Sit here with us, mother sweetheart.”

Cheryl uttered another laugh and sat on the bed. Effie was reaching, searching for her hand. She spoke. “Do your people have songs for times like these?”

Cheryl blinked. “Times like these? You mean, when someone’s sick?”

“When someone dies,” Effie said, hardly a breath. “Sing me your songs for when someone dies.”

Cheryl sighed, glancing about the room to see if there was anyone else to do this. There wasn’t. She and old Mrs. Potter, the mother of the boy who’d saved her and Mitch’s lives the night before, were alone.

She cleared her throat. “I suppose I know one.” She forced a cough and began. “Of all the money, that ‘ere I had, I spent it in good company. And of all the harm that ‘ere I’ve done, alas it was to none but me…”

Cheryl’s voice grew in volume and confidence as she went, carrying through the room, out the door and into the corridor. And from there, as if borne by magic, it echoed through the main hall in the centre of the manor where, passing through, Lily heard it.

She followed the song, rising up the stairs, not noticing that James was trailing along, drawn by the sound himself. And behind him, Bathilda came. Lily stood in the door of Monty’s bedroom, where Effie lay beside him, and her mother sat on the bed, a strong but husky alto voice, singing.

“But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise, and you should not, I’ll gently rise and softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all...”

The final notes faded to silence. Lily said nothing to disturb the pair of mothers. She stayed in the doorway, James’s arms closed around her shoulders from behind, Bathilda standing next to him. Cheryl’s shoulders heaved and she sniffed, her back to the door. She’d been told she couldn’t catch the disease, so she lifted Effie’s hand to her face, and kissed it.

“Jimsy,” Effie said.

Cheryl whirled around, gasping.

“Sweetheart, ‘Tilda,” Effie said. “Bring the book. It’s time.”

Cheryl stood as the witches closed in. “I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye, Effie.”

Bathilda stood at the foot of the bed, opening a large book bound in navy blue leather. Lily stood close enough to read the title page: “Shade Magic.”

“James, sit between them, please,” Bathilda said.

He crawled up from the foot of the bed to sit between their now tiny, withering bodies.

“Take their hands.”

He did as he was told, glancing at Lily uncertainly. She nodded, urging him to go along with it.

Bathilda drew her wand, her entire body swaying, her arm swooping in long stokes, her wand curving in loops, drawing signs for infinity, circles enclosing Monty and then Effie, each stroke crossing over James’s head. The room began to hum and glow, almost as it had the day James and Lily were married in this house, not long ago.

The loops grew smaller, closer together, tightening, lifting Monty and Effie to sitting, then to kneeling on the bed on either side of James. He watched their faces, his head pivoting from one of them to the other. They were still themselves, still his parents, but their skin was smoothing, healing. Their hair was darkening, thickening. Effie was beautiful in a way he’d never seen before. And Monty -- Monty looked like James himself. 

Lily saw it too, and it took her breath away, Her hands gripped the footboard of the bed to hold herself up. A wind seemed to be blowing through the room though nothing was moved by it. Bathilda was speaking an incantation now, reading it from the open book.

Monty opened his eyes -- no longer coloured cloudy grey but green, his mouth curving in a smile. Effie returned the look. And with their free hands, the ones not holding James’s, they reached for each other. Bathilda’s voice was low and loud, the incantation rising to its climax. Monty and Effie -- young, shining, wonderful, happy -- were pulled to each other, as if by a massive gravity. They moved closer and closer to where James sat between them. And when they met, light flashed outward from the looping infinities. It was gold, like the light from the spell James and Lily had cast together to keep the thugs away from her loved ones.

Their bodies fell back onto the bed, old and sick again, but their restored forms lingered in front of James for a moment. He looked at his hands and saw that their young, healed hands still held him. They smiled at him, mouthed words he couldn’t understand before rushing at him, passing through him, soaring once around the room before passing through Lily, rocking her backwards as she held onto the bed. And then, they vanished.

\-------------------------------------

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were dead. Bathilda called for the undertakers to prepare them for a funeral, and James and Lily sat on the stairs in the manor’s entrance hall reading the shade magic book. What he had never been told, and never asked, was that Monty and Effie were soulmates themselves. They had access to a magic that did not make them immortal, but since they died together with the spell at work, they could come and go from their afterlife, visiting the world of the living together as shades.

James felt the reality of the magic. His parents were gone, but they were not gone. It was more like they had withdrawn and were watching, waiting for him to need them. And most of all, he had the sense that wherever they were, at any moment, they were together, in love, powerful.

“But why did they want us to learn this?” he said, flipping through the book. “We are going to die someday. Of course we are. But will it be together? With wind and light and spells, like this?”

Lily was clinging to his arm, her head on his shoulder. “You tell me, James. You were part of that spell just now. Without you there, I don’t think it would have worked. Without you, they’d be truly gone.”

He let out a long breath. “We’ll spend the rest of our lives studying this book, trying to figure it out, won’t we.”

She perched her chin on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it today, love. Let’s just take care of the business at hand.”

“Right,” he said. “But I don’t want to handle anything. I want to go back to the top of Gryffindor Tower, get in bed, and lie there with you for a month or two.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a darling. But we only got my parents to agree to two days away from Cokeworth.”

He gasped. “That’s right. What are we going to do with them?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But if we don’t come up with anything, they’re going to go right back to sweeping up the glass at home, waiting for the Death Eaters to come at them again.”

James hummed. “There’s a cottage in Godric’s Hollow that has everything you and I will need to live comfortably once we graduate. We don’t need a huge old place like this, and we can take the money from selling it and -- “ He paused, squeezing her hand. “And we can send Mitch and Cheryl away, far away where they’ll be safe.”

She sat back, her eyes wide. “Far away? Like back to Switzerland? Or do you mean like Australia, or Canada, or South Africa?”

“Yes, not Europe at all,” he said. “Overseas.”

Lily stammered for a moment, beginning to say many things and stopping herself before finally nodding her head. “Yes we have to, don’t we.”

“We’ll make it nice for them,” James said. “Luxurious. No more night shifts for Mitch. No more working on a typing machine for Cheryl, unless she wants to. They can have as much money as they want from the sale of the manor. I don't care.”

“They can disappear,” Lily said, her eyes glassy with tears. “They won’t know our children, or Petty’s. But they won’t die. They won’t be tortured by Death Eaters. James,” she said, fighting to swallow back tears, “I’m almost certain that Corban Yaxley person who was just here is one of them. Severus didn’t admit it in as many words, but he didn’t deny it either. Yaxley came here with a bio-magical agent and he infected your parents to get to us. They’re closing in around us, and it’s threatening everyone who can’t protect themselves.”

James took her face in his hands. “Yes, but that means we can beat them, and they know it. They’re scared of us. And they should be. Did you see that spell? The gold shield? There was nothing they could do to get around that. It didn’t so much as flicker until you let it down. So strong.” 

He kissed her lips and watched her face, waiting until she said, “Yes. We are going to win.”

\----------------------------------------------

At the end of classes that day, Professor McGonagall called the lads to her office to tell them the Potters had died. Shaken and sad, they made their way back to their tower dormitory, slumping through the corridors, discussing immediate plans. 

“So if the funeral is Saturday,” Sirius was saying, “maybe we should turn up at the manor tomorrow night, to make sure James doesn’t get too low. I think Monty and Effie would want it that way. They love -- loved having us in the house.”

Peter was nodding. “Yes, and it’s a lot for Lily to have to mourn her in-laws in their first few weeks of marriage. A bunch of strange people will be at the house too. I reckon she could use our help.”

“That’s lovely of you both, really,” Remus said. “And I’m sure you’re right. But there’s something else I need to do this weekend, unfortunately.”

The three of them stood silently on the moving stairwell as it swung toward the tower. Sirius frowned, stunned for a moment that anything could be more urgent than comforting their newly orphaned best mate.

Then he remembered.

“It’s a full moon,” Peter said.

Sirius swore. “Right.”

“It’s fine,” Remus said. “I’ll lock myself in the shack and weather the night on my own. I’ve done it before. I’ll survive and Dumbledore will restore whatever I wreck in the shack when I’m through. It isn't difficult.”

Sirius pulled at his hair. “No, that’s awful. Hang it, Remus. What bloody terrible timing.”

Remus sighed. "Werewolf's worst enemy is always time. But don’t worry about me this cycle. I’ll manage,” he said. “Frankly, I’m going to have to learn to manage without all of you, and soon. We’ve only got a few months of school left and when we’re gone from here, I won’t be able to keep calling on you to tend me once a month for the rest of my life.”

Peter’s nose twitched. “Why not? I don’t mind it. I daresay neither do the other lads.”

Remus dropped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You are astoundingly good friends. Both of you. And that’s why you need to leave me to go to James this weekend. His need is greater.”

They were through the portrait hole and climbing the spiral staircase to their bedroom now. “Well, what about the other creature in your life,” Sirius said. “Your Veela. I can’t seem to scare her off, so why don’t you put her to work? Make her sit with you while you’re -- erm, under the weather. Might be good for her.”

Remus gave a low whistle. “No, Moony likes her far too much to risk that. He’s a creature of appetite and I can’t trust him not to -- well, you know.”

“So?” Sirius said. “Maybe it’s high time Moony grew up.”

Remus scoffed. “You know very well she needs to keep her virginity if she ever wants a traditional pureblood marriage. Even if she splits up with Malfoy, they’ll just find her someone else with the same stipulations. No, I’d hate to be the one to have to try to explain all of that to a werewolf in love.”

Sirius sneered. “A werewolf in WHAT?”

“Hang on, hang on,” Peter was saying, hurrying to de-escalate a row. “The shack is continuous with the school. It’s an outcrop of a Hogwarts tunnel. Dumbledore had it built himself. So the school's chastity charms should be in effect there, shouldn't they?"

Sirius tossed his bag hard against the leg of his bed. "Yes, they are. Trust me."

"Well, then Moony wouldn’t be able to -- well, you know,” Peter said. “She’ll be safe, as far as virginity goes. Won’t do a thing about murder, but -- ”

“Look, just forget it,” Remus said, falling face down on his bed. “You two go to the funeral, Narcissa can sit in the library studying for her NEWTs like a civilized person, and I can lock myself alone in the shack tomorrow night. And that, my dear lads, is the end of it.”


	23. Twenty-three

Peter and Sirius stood at the Floos in the Entrance Hall on the night before the Potters' funeral. They were dressed in black and rather miserable, sad to have lost the kind, generous Potters, but also torn between grieving with James and caring for Remus during the full moon. 

"Poor old Moony," Peter was saying. "He hates to be locked up indoors. I hope he doesn't blame us. It can't be helped."

Remus smirked. "I assure you, there is no blaming going on. Though he will rip everything in the shack to shreds before morning."

Sirius ruffled his own hair. "I don’t know, Remus. This new ‘I'm OK, Moony's OK’ philosophy of yours doesn't move me. It’s not his fault he’s a monster. I get that. But you can’t just tell him not to act out on his nature."

Remus sighed. "I don't try to tell him anything. That’s not how it works. He just -- is, and maybe he can be better."

“Well, even so, he’d still just as soon eat us in our human forms as look at us,” Sirius said.

Remus didn’t deny it, hanging his head.

Sirius dropped a hand on his shoulder. “All I’m saying is, lock up tight, and be extremely careful tonight. Between you and being gutted over the Potters, I know I won’t sleep a wink.”

Filch was croaking at them from the Floos. "If you're going, go now before I lock up for the night."

The lads stepped up to the fireplace, reaching into the bowl of powder.

Remus stepped back to avoid the flare. "Remember me to James. I never dreamed I wouldn’t be with him on a night like this. Tell him I’m sorry."

Sirius nodded. "He knows."

\-------------------------------------

In Cygnus Black’s study, Lucius Malfoy was pacing quickly enough for his robes to stream out behind him.

“Come, my boy,” Cygnus Black called from behind his immense walnut wood desk, his back to the floor-length window, his high-backed chair casting a massive shadow over the room. “Sit down. It doesn’t do to fuss over gossip.”

“It is no longer mere gossip,” Lucius said. “No longer half-heard whispers, but a written report.”

“An anonymous report,” Cygnus said, waving away the grey trails floating out of the pipe he was smoking. “It’s someone without the backbone to sign their name sending each of us the same note bearing wild tales of Narcissa and some unworthy beau at school. I understand how disappointed you must be, how your pride must be suffering, but such things are not uncommon in the last days before a wedding. I daresay you have your own -- erm, diversions.”

Lucius didn’t even blush. Of course he did. All betrothed traditional wizards did.

Cygnus went on. “All I’m saying is that in a few months, when everyone and everything is settled, this report won’t matter in the least.”

Lucius grit his teeth. “If wild tales were all there was to it, I could accept your view, Father Black. However, my concern is that this report aligns too well with the troubles the Snape boy has had at school. They say he was under the influence of a romantically active Veela at the time of the attack in the potions lab -- “

“You’re not saying that my daughter and that greasy half-blood -- “

“No, not Snape himself,” Malfoy sneered. “Clearly, he understands the meanness of his social position and has directed his affections elsewhere. He is rash, but not a stupid nor an impudent boy. No, our Narcissa’s attentions are being squandered elsewhere, and it's affecting people around her. Which provokes the question of whether her attentions are excited and intensified by -- well, whether there is something to the rumors about Veela heritage.”

“It is quite an accusation,” Cygnus said, the bowl of his pipe clicking against his desktop, “to stand in a man’s study and suggest creature heritage among his daughters, and by extension, his own wife. It is well-documented that the Rosiers haven’t had a Veela in the family since the medieval period.”

Cygnus’s indignation set Lucius back. “No, sir. It was no accusation, merely -- “

“Once you get back that far in history, every family has some creature involvement. Why, look at yourself, Malfoy,” he said, blowing a mouthful of smoke at his intended son-in-law. “The way you’re trotting back and forth on my good silk rug with your chest puffed out. I could say you look almost like a centaur at this moment.”

Malfoy coughed out a nervous laugh. “I assure you I am not.”

Cygnus raised his eyebrows, his pipe fuming. 

To seem less centaur-like, Lucius took a seat and pulled the anonymous note from his pocket, reading it again. “Dear sirs, I write as a concerned friend of Narcissa Black’s. She is much too close to a boy from school, a half-blood cursed with a disturbing and dangerous nature. I warn you to withdraw her from Hogwarts at once.”

“The oddness of the handwriting still strikes me,” Lucius said. “It looks like a message dictated to a five year old child, letter by letter. This reveals two things. The first is that the writer has access to a young child. The second is that the writer is familiar enough to the family that their writing might give them away.”

Cygnus’s posture stiffened, his lips sealing themselves in a hard line.

If he wouldn’t say it, Lucius would. “It seems that Narcissa has been to see her sister. And not Bellatrix, the other one, the mother of her young niece.”

“Narcissa has no other sister,” Cygnus said.

Lucius sat up in his chair, chest puffed again. “Sir, we will not know what exactly is meant by this rumour of a ‘dangerous and disturbing nature’ unless we go to Andromeda -- “

“We do not speak that name here, Malfoy,” Cygnus said, rising to his feet. “Now, swallow your pride and suffer a schoolgirl's final flirtation before she becomes your wife.”

"Sir, if you do not wish to interview the note-writer to find out what this means, the only other person to ask is Narcissa herself. Allow me to bring her home, for as long as it takes. I'll escort Snape back to school and return with her. It will distance her from this boy, and give you and I and Bella a chance to straighten her out. Whatever happens, we must preserve our betrothal agreement.”

Cygnus tipped back in his chair, unconvinced.

Lucius planted his hands on the desk, leaning over it. “Sir, Bella is distracted with politics. She has been married for years without producing a Black family heir and may forestall such a responsibility forever.”

Rather than arguing, Cygnus sighed. 

Lucius went on. “And If Narcissa is allowed to wander off after a half-blood boy, she won’t produce a suitable heir either.”

Cygnus raised his head. “How could she wander off after the engagement bonding ceremony, Malfoy? What have you done? Is the betrothal pledge broken?”

Lucius felt his face tingle, as if blood was rushing to it. He forced through the falsehood anyway. “No, of course I haven’t betrayed her,” he said. “But if this flirtation of hers is truly cursed with a bad nature, he may persuade her to betray us using supernatural means, against Narcissa’s own good nature. She might follow after him, sully herself, and lose her chance to produce a proper heir, leaving the Black family line to pass through -- the note-writer. We must act to preserve this ancient house, Father Black. Disruptive as it may be for family harmony today, anything is better than risking another unsavoury elopement.”

“Narcissa would not dare,” Cygnus thundered, but his eyes were glassy, as if he was near tears at the thought.

“No, of course not, Father Black,” Lucius said, his voice smooth and low. “Our Narcissa is a good girl, the best girl. And this is why she must be thoroughly protected from the -- what was it again -- the dangerous and disturbing classmates at her wild, unregulated school.”

Cygnus let out a smokeless breath. “Are you saying you want to move the wedding date up?"

Lucius hoped Cygnus missed the trace of a wince in his expression at the question. "No, sir. I do not mean to rush Narcissa, but merely to safeguard her."

Cygnus drew on his pipe. "Very well. Go to the school as if all you care about is Severus. Make no scene with our girl, but instruct the headmaster to send her home on wedding business tonight.”

—————

Severus Snape sulked his way up to the headmaster’s office, Lucius Malfy following behind, tapping his ankle with the end of his walking stick. “Repentant and respectful,” Malfoy said.

Though Severus’s suspension was over, he was reporting back to school more angry and foul than ever. Lily’s home in Cokeworth was destroyed, and she and her parents had been missing for days. Police had cordoned off her garden with yellow tape but after that, they didn’t seem to know what to do. The place stood wrecked and charred with hex marks, unsightly even for Cokeworth.

After the attack, he had watched the house. Petunia had come with her huge lug of a fiance to salvage what she could, gathering a bundle of dolls, photograph albums, clothes, and LP records, crying and ranting. Severus had been developing a listening device charmed to look like a harmless galleon, and he had left one in the ruined upstairs bedroom, eavesdropping from a twin coin as the police interviewed Petunia, asking her questions she couldn’t answer about “freaks.” She was frustrated beyond her capacity to speak, howling in tears instead. It was enough for the police to take the phone number of her fiancé’s house and promise to contact her if anything changed.

The listening device went silent after that. While Petunia was easy enough to dismiss, Lily was quite the opposite. Even as he waited for the headmaster to open the inner door to the office, Lily filled Snape’s thoughts. Of course she had figured out his role in the attack. She couldn’t be duped for long. There had been a sadness, a hurt look of betrayal in her face as she and Potter sailed over his head on a broom, Lily’s useless Muggle parents clinging to them for their lives. She knew the Death Eaters had come that night because he had called them.

It wasn’t fair. All he wanted was to get Lily into the safety of the Death Eater ranks, alone, without Potter or -- he cringed to think of it -- without any children by Potter. But in trying, Severus had thrown everything Lily Evans loved into mortal peril -- her parents and her arrogant arse of a toy husband. 

In his mind, Snape knew she was lost to him. Nothing could ever reconcile the pair of them, not even after she had looked down from the broom and seen his wand raised and understood that he was letting her escape. He didn’t call the others to stop her and did nothing to stop her himself. It may have been the weakest, most cowardly of I-love-yous, but it was all he could do in that moment. 

And still, as the headmaster welcomed Severus back, he was only half there. His thoughts were wherever Lily had escaped to. She would be back -- back to finish her time at this school where she was Head Girl. And when she came out of hiding, he would re-commence her recruitment to the Dark Lord. 

It was more complicated now that Potter was involved, but not impossible. Snape himself was not capable of eliminating Potter -- not with Lily standing by to protect him, at any rate. But he happened to be in the service of someone strong enough to vanquish any rival. 

Lucius and the headmaster blathered on. Yes, young Snape had learned his lesson. Oh, and by the way, Narcissa’s mother needed her at home for some pre-wedding matters. You know women, hahaha…

Snape watched Dumbledore’s profile, nodding and chatting, and he knew what would provoke the Dark Lord to act against Potter -- or rather, who. What the Dark Lord cared about at Hogwarts more than any soulmate pairs was Dumbledore himself. Snape had been assigned to watch him, but Dumbledore was cagey, secretive to a fault, not one to reveal his weaknesses carelessly. He needed more invasive watching. 

And as he sat listening to Lucius go on, Snape eased his hand into the pocket of his trousers, to one of his charmed listening galleons. Like a Muggle magician doing sleight of hand tricks, he worked the coins out of his clothing, and slid it beneath himself, into the crack between the plush purple cushions of Dumbledore’s sofa. He left it there for good.

\---------------------------------

The sun had nearly set. Remus sat alone in the parlor of the shrieking shack. He’d already got undressed and was wrapped in an itchy grey blanket, breathing deeply, trying to calm and prepare himself for the rage and ruin of the night to come. His senses had begun their change already. Some of the colour had run out of his vision, but his hearing and his sense of smell were overpowering, almost dizzying with their sharpness.

When the knocking at the door started, his uncommonly keen reflexes jerked him to his feet, and he bit back the urge to shout. Someone was outside, banging to get it. He couldn’t let himself be seen. There was hardly any time left, but he couldn’t resist creeping to a window where he could see the door. He imagined he was walking stealthily but Moony was invading his movements already, and it was impossible not to spring and bound from place to place. He struggled to hold the blanket over himself.

There she was, on the other side of the wall, just outside, beating on the door with both fists. He might have been able to keep from answering if he hadn’t heard her voice, if she hadn’t called his name. 

“Lupin, please. Let me in. Hide me,” Narcissa said as she pounded on the door.

His hand -- still a man’s hand, no claws, no long hair -- scrabbled at the doorknob, barely managing to turn it. She surged into the gap as he opened it but he stood in her way. Speech was difficult, his voice low and gritty. “You can’t be here,” he said. “Go back.”

“Lupin, no,” she said, pressing further into the doorway. Her body touched his as she tried to squeeze past him. He leapt back. He didn’t mean to let her in, but she came when he gave way. 

“My father has dispatched Lucius to the school to bring me home. Dumbledore sent me to my room to pack but I ran here instead. I can’t leave with Lucius. Something’s wrong, I feel it. I feel -- “ she looked up at his face, trying to catch his eye but his gaze was unfocused, distant “ -- I feel like if I let them take me, they’ll keep me home until I’m married. And I don’t think I can -- “

He veered away from her, pushing himself off the wall of the vestibule and stumbling into the parlor. “Sirius,” he said. “Not me, go to Sirius. At Potters.”

She reached out, trying to steady him as he staggered away. “But I’ve never been to Potters, I can’t apparate there unless you give an address, coordinates. Where is it?”

“Cissa!” he choked over her questions, holding her at arm’s length. “Go now. Anywhere. Go or I’ll -- “

He doubled over, his hands contorting, letting go of her. It was taking him. With the last of his human speech, he uttered a single word. “Door…”

She did as he said, leaving him in the parlor to run to the door, slamming it shut, finding her wand and charming it locked. Remus had meant for her to do this from the outside of the door but she hadn’t come here just to leave. She stood watching as something more than her own magic worked on the locks, as if the house knew to seal itself up when the signal was given.

From the parlor, his cries were awful, as if he knew she was still in the house and was fighting to stop the transformation. It was a sound of pain, and fear, and more than anything, sorrow. Even knowing Moony as she did, the sound of his voice taking over Remus’s raised the hair on the back of her neck, all her instincts telling her to run. There was an exit Floo upstairs but she would have to get by him to use it. Maybe once his screaming stopped, she could do it. 

For now, she stayed by the door, her hand on the knob, waiting as the cries and then the high dog-like whimpers died away in the next room. What she heard next was quieter but no less alarming. On the other side of the wall, the werewolf sniffed. Moony was here and he had sensed her scent in the house. The walls and floors echoed with thuds and scrapes as he bounded to the vestibule. She stood quaking at the door, stalled in her human form, her eyes wide and grey, her breath shallow from fright.

A low growl was grinding in Moony’s chest, his teeth were wet and bared, hungry, he was lowering his stance, winding up to pounce.

She swept off her long black cloak and flung it in his face. For an instant, it blinded him and he was left clawing at it, tearing it away from his head. She had worn her backless ballerina dress again, the one that didn’t obstruct her Veela wings. Where were they? Where was her Veela form -- the one she needed to keep Moony from mauling her?

He was free of the cloak, growling and circling her as much as the small space would allow. 

There were tears in her eyes now. “Lupin,” she said to the creature. “You don’t want to hurt me. Lupin, don’t. I’m yours.”

He leapt at her, pushing himself across the room with a burst of strength from his massive rear legs. She screamed, bracing herself for the bite of claws and teeth. But all she felt on her skin was hot, humid breath. Moony stood with his snout in her face, tilting his head from side to side as he looked at her. His clawed hands scratched at the door, on either side of her head. She dared to look at his eyes, the warm brown turned green, the colour of the flash of light from a hex. In those eyes, she saw herself reflected -- the blazing gold of her own eyes, white fangs elongating in her mouth. Eye to eye, Moony stared back at her, looking away only when her wings burst from her back.

He threw back his head, and howled.

\---------------------------------------------

It was early, barely sunrise when Narcissa’s eyes fluttered open. At first, she wasn’t sure where she was, but she knew the light wasn’t filtered through the lake water. She was not in her dormitory. With a closed fist, she rubbed her eyes and rolled from her side to her back. The ceiling overhead was smooth and white, undecorated. She wasn’t at home in her parents’ manor house either. 

Though the room was cold, she had the feeling that she had been sleeping without a nightdress -- without anything. Beneath the blanket, she touched her bare stomach. And then she began to remember…

With a gasp she sat up, clutching the blanket to herself. She was in the werewolf shack. And in bed next to her, under the same blanket, on his stomach and uncovered from the waist up, sleeping heavily, was Lupin. 

Her heart crashed, her fingertips pricking with panic, like almost falling down stairs.

No, no. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Creatures don’t care for clothes and, after all, Moony never wore anything. The fact that she wasn’t wearing anything either didn’t necessarily mean they had…

Wordlessly, she summoned her dress. At first, she thought the spell hadn’t worked. It had, only her dress was coming to her from somewhere else in the house, down the stairs. She grabbed at it and pulled it over her head, quick to cover herself and leave Lupin his privacy beneath the blankets. 

As she moved, she clenched the muscles in her pelvic floor, her body reaching toward the odd, displaced feeling inside her, like an ache. There it was, unmistakable.

Yes. This scene was exactly what it looked like. Moony and the Veela -- no, she and Lupin -- during the mad night locked in the shack together, they had…

She scrambled for her wand, rushing through the contraception spell her mother had taught her on the morning of her engagement ceremony. She had never actually used it before but the motions felt familiar this morning. A scrap of memory surfaced. She had done this earlier in the night. Even as a Veela, she knew not to risk bearing the child with a transformed werewolf.

Knowing the spell had been in place all along did little to calm her racing pulse. Lupin was still sleeping, one long arm dangling off the edge of the bed, his hand trailing on the floor. He must have been missing her heat under the blanket, and now he was turning in his sleep, pulling the covers to his chin. His face was turned toward her, peaceful, asleep. Keeping a distance between them, she lay down beside him, and watched. 

He was so beautiful to her, his colour higher and pinker than usual after his night as a werewolf, his waving brown hair a complete mess, falling over one closed eye. His face was human but his chin and upper lip were covered in dark stubble. Behind his lids, his eyes would be brown again, knowing and kind.

He hadn’t wanted this to happen. He tried desperately to send her away when she arrived, but she hadn’t gone. It was her fault. Did that mean she forced this on him, made it inescapable? No, she remembered enough from the night before, enough of the urgent, eager exchanges between them to know that no one was forced. As always, their desire had been mutual, and immense.

She had come here in love with him, and she was still. What had happened in the night hadn’t ended that, but it had changed it. Only she wasn’t sure how. 

Waking him up to sort it out would be the next thing to do, but she was afraid. And so she watched him, pulling her knees up inside her full skirt, shivering on top of the bedding, admiring the best person she knew, wondering if she’d lost him. Her face lay on her arm, her eye level with her wrist. On it was a mark, a bite but not the ravenous tearing wound she’d expected from Lupin’s werewolf mouth. Instead it was a neat imprint of orderly incisors and two larger, deeper canines, stamped like a seal, looking almost official.

Eventually, he turned from his side, onto his back, flexing his spine. The breathy moan he uttered as he sleepily stretched himself made her blush, but she stayed quiet, propping herself on one elbow, keeping his face in sight.

“Cissa?” he said, glancing down at himself to make sure he was modestly covered. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt at all last night?”

Her throat was tight as she answered. “I’m not hurt.”

He let out his breath. “Thank the stars. Spending the night here with me while the moon was full -- that was outlandishly risky.”

There was a pause before she agreed. “Yes, it was.”

The husky nervousness of her voice piqued his attention, and Remus glanced at her before settling back to blink warily at the ceiling, sensing his surroundings, his eyes and his head clearing. As the clarity came, his expression changed from sleepy contentment to confusion, to worry, to fear. 

Finally, he spoke, the silent strangeness around them growing stranger as he broke it. “What -- what did we -- do? I have dreams sometimes. And I’m having trouble knowing what’s real right now. But can you tell if, last night, here alone together, we…”

She sat up, testing her tender pelvic floor one more time before she answered. “Yes.”

He dropped one hand on his forehead. “Yes what? Yes you can tell? Or yes we did?”

“Yes.”

He sat up with a jolt, summoning his clothes. “No, no, no,” he was saying. “Not like this. No, I never meant to -- ”

“You didn’t do anything,” she said. “It was us.”

He scoffed, fighting his way into his shirt with the sleeves inside out. 

“Lupin, wait,” she said, her hand on his sleeve. “Be still for a moment and let the memory of it come back.”

She watched his face change again, his expression changing from horror to blushing astonishment at the memory of her, so close, to mere regret. 

He covered his face with his hands. “I don’t understand,” he said, shaking off his stupor and managing to get into his trousers underneath the blanket. “The school’s chastity charms are in force here in the shack. Sirius tested it. It’s true. So we should have been safe here. Do the charms not apply to creatures? Is that it?”

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still cold and hugging herself. Remus had already stood up to search the room for their shoes. As he looked, he kept talking, relentlessly trying to make sense of it. “James said the chastity charms are in place all over school grounds and buildings. That includes this place. The only reason he and Lily can do it on school property is because of their marriage, their soul bond which makes their sex chaste. So it must be the creature thing.”

As he paced by her, Narcissa caught his arm. He stopped in front of her, looking down at her upturned face. His heart seemed to break and he sat heavily on the bed beside her. “You lovely thing, I am so sorry.” 

Her mouth was dry, clicking as she opened it to speak. “You didn’t want me?”

His face twisted with pain again as he clasped his arms around her. “Of course I did. I do. But you wanted to save this. I knew that. And I still -- Stars, Cissa, forgive me.”

He bowed his head, his forehead against hers, his eyes clenched shut. She raised a hand to caress his cheek, touching his skin for the first time since he’d had her. Yes, this person, this body had been the same as her own. A shadow of the feeling returned to her now, eclipsing the worry and uncertainty she had felt since waking up. It was ecstatic, alive, as warm as he was as she leaned into him.

“I did say that once, didn’t I,” she said. “I did tell you once that I wanted to give myself to someone else someday.” She rolled her forehead against his. “If it was ever true, it wasn’t for long.”

He sighed, his eyes still closed. “You’re saying that because we can’t go back.”

“No,” she said, both her hands on his face now. “Look at me, Lupin.” She waited while he opened his eyes and sat back slightly, so his eyes could focus on hers. “I’m saying it because I -- “

“Stop,” he said. “Wait. You always move first. From the very first time we played chess. This time, let me, Cissa. Let me be first to tell you that I love you.”

She made a sound, high and sweet as they held each other tightly on the side of the bed. Her head on his shoulder, she turned and kissed his neck, just below the line of stubble growing there, flesh smooth and human and still hers. His hand cupped her head, holding her close, and she echoed back what he’d said, whispering it against his throat.

It was Narcissa who broke the embrace, pushing off his chest, reaching for his right arm. “I know how it happened,” she said, her thumb gliding under his cuff, smoothing the white flesh of his inner wrist, feeling for something. “I know why the chastity charm didn’t stop us.” She turned his wrist over in her lap, and there on his skin was an imprint, a neat crescent of a bite, hers. He didn’t seem terribly surprised by it. She had marked him before. But then she showed him the matching crescent on her own wrist.

“It’s exactly as it was in the book I read about betrothal contracts. Our creature selves,” she explained, raising his wrist to her lips, kissing it. “This is how they came together here -- how we came together. We didn’t do it until after we did this, after we made these marks in each other. When we formed this bond and made ourselves chaste.”

He sat as if stupefied. “Bond.”

“Yes, a creature bond. I don’t know how it affects us as humans but -- they’ve done it. It’s done.”

Remus sat beside her, grazing the mark on her wrist with his fingertips. The skin was unbroken. She wouldn’t be a werewolf. But what did the future hold? He asked her. “Where do we go now? Malfoy -- he’ll have been looking for you all night. And your father too.”

She smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. “I won’t let them hurt you. Last night you told me to go to Sirius at the Potters.’ I know they’re grieving there, but would they take us in, just for a little while so we can stop and think?”

He nodded. Yes, it made sense. He would take her with him to where he always went during the worst trouble. To the lads.

\------------------------------------

Lily sat up in bed as James crashed through the door, coming in as if he was leading a stampede. It was daybreak on the morning of his parents’ funeral. It might have been a glum moment if, late that night, he hadn’t let Sirius and Peter talk him into blowing off tension in what used to be his favourite way, as Prongs. For years, they’d spent every full moon running through fields and woods in their animal forms, and even without Remus, keeping it up felt natural, necessary. Remus wasn’t the only one of them who could exorcise his demons this way.

The lads had gone to bed and James was back in his own room now, standing dirty and disheveled in the open doorway. He scanned the room with a wild look, startling when he found Lily there even though she was exactly what he was looking for.

She laughed at him. “Our Prongs is home at last.”

He tried to close the door, swinging it too forcefully, making it bounce open again.

She laughed harder. “Easy. Now come to bed.”

He let his cloak slip to the floor and sprung toward her, jumping into the bed on his hands and knees. For the first time since his parents died, she saw him smile. She could have said something about the schedule for the day, the guests they were expecting, the parchments waiting for them to sign. But instead, she let him stay in Prongs's carefree space a little longer.

He wasn’t speaking, but it didn’t matter. She laid back on the pillows, sliding his glasses down his nose as he crawled over her.

“So a night out with Padfoot and Wormy was just what you needed, was it?” she asked as he began to nuzzle at her neck and shoulder, still too caught up in Prongs’s preference for feeling and hearing to have much need to say anything himself. His tongue flicked against her skin and she squealed.

As she expected, Prongs was promising to be a fun companion. But she missed the James in him. She wanted them both, and she reached for his hands, rolling on top of him and holding him down by their intertwined fingers on the pillow on either side of his head. 

“Wish me good morning, my darling husband,” she said.

“Good morning,” he said, still smiling in spite of everything.

She hummed, content and letting herself settle along the length of him. “There you are. Had to make sure the man I married was still in there before I let this wild, gorgeous creature come in from the forest to ravish me.”

He flipped her over, quick and strong. “Yes, love. This creature is always me, and always bound to you.”


	24. Twenty-four

Sirius Black groaned into his pillow as one side of his mattress sunk beneath someone else's weight. After a night running through the countryside with the lads, he would have been tired enough to sleep through it if his guest hadn't run their fingers through his hair.

"Remus?" he mumbled, rolling toward the visitor, his eyes closed.

"No such luck, my beauty."

He grinned but still didn't open his eyes. "Marlene."

"Yes," she said, arranging his arms around herself as she backed into him, fitting into the bends of his body, her back against his chest.

"What time is it?" he murmured into her thick chestnut hair, his arm clamped around her waist.

"Too early to be bothered about it," she said. "Still hours until the funeral. The rest of the Order is coming later. But me, I came early in case you needed a cuddle."

He hummed an answer, a sound vaguely like a dog's whine.

"You've been out as Padfoot all night," she said.

He nodded against the back of her head. "Did wonders. We all needed it. Wearing off now."

"Poor pup," she cooed. "These dear old Potters were your second parents."

He blew a sigh into her hair. "They were until my family threw me out. Then they were my only parents."

Marlene turned to face him, nose to nose on his pillow. "I'm so sorry, Sirius."

He opened his eyes and pecked a kiss on her mouth. "Thank you. Thanks for being here with me. My offer still stands to start being together full-time, whenever you're ready."

She scoffed, but with great affection. “You’re getting as clingy and sentimental as James.”

“And no one knows but you,” he said, kissing her in earnest now. Off and on, they’d been snogging each other since they were thirteen. They had trained each other to do it exactly as they liked it best. This morning, in keeping with the looming funeral, their kiss stayed in a low gear, strong with emotion rather than passion, slow and affectionate.

As it started to intensify, Marlene broke away. Sirius had been sleeping shirtless and she used her forefinger to trace a line down the centre of his chest. "I heard Lily's parents are here."

"Hiding from Death Eaters," he said.

"Very wise of them. Things are getting worse by the day, especially for mixed Muggle-magical families," she said, tucking his hair behind his ear.

He blinked, his eyes full of pain. "Did the Death Eaters do the old Potters in? What’s the Order saying? Lily has a theory about a bio-magical agent and a Ministry mole named Yaxley.”

Marlene sighed and hugged him around the neck. “Sounds right. We were already monitoring Yaxley when the Potters took ill. No one can be trusted. Ministry credentials don't mean anything anymore. Speaking of trustworthiness, it was quite perplexing to meet Lucius Malfoy’s fiancee downstairs.”

Sirius blinked again, suddenly agitated. “My cousin? Narcissa? She’s here?”

“Yeah, she was coming out of the ballroom with James and Remus when I came through the Floo. And to tell you the truth, I’ve never seen her look so bedraggled. I mean, I’ve never seen her with a hair out of place at all, but her cloak looked positively shredded in places this morning.”

“Remus,” Sirius said. “How was Remus? Was he quite himself?”

"Yeah, he seemed alright,” Marlene said. "Sad, but that's why we're here."

Sirius kissed her once more on the end of her nose before disentangling their limbs and sliding to the edge of the bed.

“You’re getting up already?” Marlene said, sitting up herself.

He was fumbling with a T-shirt. “Someone needs to go send my cousin home.”

“Don’t make a scene, Rus,” Marlene said, walking across the bed on her knees to sit beside him. “There will be all sorts of people coming here to pay their respects today. And you might not like all of them. The Order will handle anyone who’s actually dangerous. Let them throw Malfoy out if he comes here to collect her.”

“What if Narcissa is the one who’s dangerous?” he said. “Especially when Malfoy’s not around?”

“We have no reason to believe that,” Marlene said, smoothing his shirt over his back. “In fact, the last intelligence we have on Narcissa is that she’s recently got back in contact with Andromeda and Ted Tonks. That’s a very good sign.”

“Andromeda?” Sirius paused with one shoe in his hand. Then he shook his head. “Nah, it’s not enough. Narcissa may not yet be a menace to all of wizarding society, but she’s much more than dangerous to Remus.”

Behind him, Marlene let out a bitter laugh. “What’s all that supposed to mean. He’s not so foolish as to fancy her, is he?”

Sirius huffed. “Only after she pursued him relentlessly for the entire term.”

“She did not.”

“She did. You just saw her chasing after him with your own eyes.”

“No,” Marlene said. “No one as vain and materialistic and proud as Narcissa Black would ever be involved with Remus Lupin. He’s lovely, but not for her. Not to mention she is very publicly engaged, and her family’s views -- “

“I am well aware of the views of her family,” Sirius said, trying not to snap. He sighed and took Marlene in his arms. “But I am also well aware of the affinity Remus has for the House of Black. It is utterly believable that he has brought Narcissa here with him this morning for all the same reasons I’m so glad you’re here with me. It’s stupid of him, but believable.”

Marlene still looked sceptical, but she said. “Just don’t cause a fight with Remus that James will feel like he has to mediate. I know you’re hurt, and I am here just for you. But everyone else is here for James.”

He pulled on a jacket and stood up. “Right. I’ll be calm about it. But she can’t stay.”

\--------------------------------------

In case anyone from the Malfoy or Black families was waiting at the school, Remus and Narcissa went to the Potters’ manor directly from the exit Floo in the shrieking shack. The house was silent when they arrived, the main floor empty and echoey with everyone still upstairs in bed. Remus waited to see if anyone would come to see who’d activated the Floo, but no one did. Effie and Monty hadn’t been in the habit of rushing to greet visitors, but the lack of welcome still made Remus keenly lonely for them.

Narcissa took his hand. Remus’s eyes were fixed on the double doors to the ballroom, now hung with wreaths of white gladiolus. His heart sank. “They’re in there,” he said. “The Potters, they’ll be laid out right through those doors.”

Narcissa squeezed his hand. “Do you want to see them now?”

She saw him swallow before he said, “Yes. Will you come with me?”

The door squeaked ever so slightly as Remus opened it. Sure enough, set up in front of the large window, but on the opposite end of it from where Lily and James had stood when they were married, were twin coffins, gleaming cherry wood heaped with lilies. 

Remus led Narcissa toward them, stepping quietly, like he and the lads used to do when they’d sneak into a room where Monty was napping. Each coffin was open at the top half and covered with a white gossamer cloth. Once they were close enough, Effie and Monty’s faces were veiled but visible, still as wax.

A voice spoke into the room. “They were soulmates, you know.” It was James, standing in the open doorway.

Narcissa jumped and Remus whirled around. “James.”

“Soulmates, all this time,” James went on, pacing toward them, coming closer to the coffins. “Even if Aunt Bathilda hadn’t told me, I would have known after I watched the way they died. It was beautiful, Remus. Isn’t that impossible? A beautiful death?"

"It was as you saw it," Remus said. "They do look peaceful now. Not that they were ever anything but calm and reassuring around me before."

James's face twitched in something like a smile. "They were good at peace. Maybe the soul bonds gave them that. I don’t understand much about what it will mean for Lily and me in the end. But the bonds we make with people we love, they’re stronger, and stranger than I ever guessed.”

Remus felt Narcissa looking at him, and tightened his grip on her hand. "Let's not worry too much about any of that for now," he said to both of them.

James nodded but seemed to be fading in the sunlight coming through the windows and beaming off the highly polished wood of the coffins. Remus let go of Narcissa to clap James in a hug. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”

James patted him hard on the back. “I know. Thanks for being here, especially after what you must have gone through last night, all on your own. Or,” he raised an eyebrow over Remus’s shoulder, wordlessly asking after Narcissa, “maybe not so alone. Hi, Narcissa.”

“Good morning, Po-- James.”

Remus sighed and draped an arm around his shoulders, walking James out of the room, Narcissa following behind. 

“No worries about last night. It was,” Remus had to pause for breath, “eminently tolerable. I do need to get cleaned up though, preferably before we run into Padfoot and Wormtail.”

They stepped back into the hall in time to see Marlene arriving through the Floo and skipping up the stairs after Sirius. Remus smirked as she waved at them. “Well, isn’t that nice.”

“Looks like Sirius won’t be down for a while. Come get something to eat before you go up,” James said. “The morning after a full moon everyone’s famished. And there’s always plenty of oatmeal porridge to be had here.”

Lily was in the kitchen, already cooking the promised porridge, her back to the door. “Bless their hearts, James, there’s no fruit in the house but prunes.”

“Make a nice big batch, love,” he said. “Remus is here too and he’s brought a guest.”

Lily was not emotionally prepared to hide her look of annoyance at seeing Narcissa Black in the kitchen of the Potters' manor. She sized her up from the dirty skirts of her dress to the torn cloak hanging from her shoulders. She wouldn’t have bothered to comment on any of it if she hadn’t also noticed Narcissa’s left hand.

“Your ring, Black,” Lily said. “What’ve you done with that terrifying opal engagement ring you’ve had on all year?”

Narcissa grabbed at her own hand, as if noticing for the first time that the ring was gone. She stood silent for a moment, remembering, before she shook her unbrushed hair out of her face. “I took it off. Last night, while the moon was up. I had to. I’m not bound to Malfoy anymore. I’m here,” she said, pausing for breath mid-sentence herself now, “with Lupin.”

Remus caught himself before he swayed on his feet, shaking his head and smirking. This girl…

Lily pursed her lips, as if she still didn’t quite believe it. 

Narcissa wanted to return her look, cold and haughty, unconcerned. But she couldn’t manage it. She was tired and emotional, didn't know what was going to happen next, and wasn't ready to share Remus with anyone yet. All she cared about was escaping to a quiet room before anyone saw her cry. 

“You know, I’m not hungry right now,” she said, turning to face Remus, taking both his hands, hating her voice for sounding like a scared little girl’s. "I'd rather just rest and catch my breath."

“Right,” he said. “James, I’ll see Narcissa up to Lily’s old room, if that’s alright.”

“Certainly,” James said. “It should take ten minutes to get there and get settled. I’ll use my mother's old alarms to time you.”

Lily swatted at him as they left the room. “James Potter, don’t you dare use your mother’s alarms on them.”

“What? I thought you wouldn't want her getting too comfortable here,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you saw Remus’s face, when she looked sad and clearly wanted to leave to be alone with him."

"You fell for that big misty eyes routine?" 

She wrung Effie's old apron. "Maybe a little. This is already so catastrophically awful, James," she said, looping her arms around his neck and sitting in his lap at the kitchen table. "Losing both your parents. Giving up the home you and your friends have always had in this house. Sending my parents away. Let’s not bring petty unpleasantness into it.”

“Fine, fine,” James said. “I don’t even know how Mum did that alarm thing anyway.”

She kissed the antler bump hidden in his hair. "Good. Let's not make harsh judgments of a friend like Remus, or even of someone from Sirius's awful family.”

“You rang?" Sirius said, bursting into the room with Peter and Marlene. "Now where's my coz?"

\-------------------------------------------

“He's bluffing about an alarm,” Remus said as he led Narcissa up the stairs. “I mean, he'd better be. But it’s best we hurry anyway. Don’t want to run into Sirius. Not yet.”

Lily’s old room was cold so Remus stooped to light a fire. Narcissa had taken off her cloak, but she was still standing as if waiting when he turned around.

“I think I’d rather take a bath before I try to sleep,” she said.

“Oh,” Remus said, realizing she was indeed waiting for him to go before she undressed, even though…

She wasn’t looking at him, scanning the lace-laden room instead. “Maybe you could let Lily know I could use something more suitable to wear for the funeral.”

“You’ll be coming with me then?” he said, bright but confused.

She gave him a wan smile. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Remus crossed the floor and held her tightly, whispering. “You are not here out of desperation. Above anything else, you are here because I want you with me, because I won’t let you go.”

She was shaking in his arms, beginning to cry. “My mother -- when I see my mother again, after running from Malfoy, will anything be the same as it was?”

He kissed her hair, rocking from side to side, fighting the urge to burrow into the bed and disappear with her forever. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Cissa.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “If they won’t stop insisting on Malfoy, sending him to apprehend me at school, I have to run from them. I don’t regret it. But I am sad for all the lovely things about my family I have to run away from along with the bad.”

He smoothed her hair from her crown to her back. “Maybe when they see they’d be leaving themselves with just Bellatrix Lestrange for a daughter, your parents will realize disowning is no way to handle a family dispute. Especially one that should be none of their business, like who you refuse to marry.”

She nodded against his chest. “If only Malfoy would disappear. He’ll be there at the house, poisoning my father's mind, interfering and winding everyone up.”

“Malfoy’s useless,” Remus said. “Forget him. But tell me, what did you do with that ring of his?”

She almost laughed. “You mean, during our 'eminently tolerable' evening together? I threw it into the fire in the shack's parlour. Don’t you remember?”

Remus stared off into the fireplace grate. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “Yes, I do. It was the first thing you removed before we -- “

“It was the only thing I took off myself. You saw to the rest of it,” she said.

Remus’s face flushed red so swiftly he felt the rush of blood tingle in his cheeks. It was shockingly strange to think of himself taking her like that, only it wasn't strange at all.

He cleared his throat. “Your head is clearer than mine when we’re transformed. You remember everything better than I do.”

She hummed and swayed against him. “Yes, and that’s why I love you better.”

He clucked his tongue “Don’t start that again.”

“But it’s true.”

He sighed, an uneasy sound. “Tell me another thing. We spent hours together last night. How is it possible that you’re not hurt? There doesn’t seem to be a scratch on you.” He reached for her wrist. “Except for this.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. “Sometimes I think I know your Moony better than you do. In that state, you were perfectly content to lay across my lap and let me stroke your pelt, scratch your ears and chin. It wasn’t all mad love. Some of it was actually sweet. You were so delicate with my wings...”

He smirked. “You’re having me on.”

“I’m not.”

He slid his hand beneath her hair, between her shoulder blades where her wings would have been, swirling his fingers in a circle against her skin as if to conjure them. “I remember these,” he whispered. “I must have paid them very close attention. Sometime, I’d like to see them as Remus, and touch them with my fingers, instead of trying not to shred them with my claws.”

Her cheeks were pink now too, and she was rising toward him. Remus was about to kiss her when voices rang out in the corridor. Sirius and Marlene were going down to breakfast. Peter was joining them, and in the jumble of conversation, Remus heard his own name. 

Narcissa sunk back onto her heels. “You’d better go. They deserve an explanation for why I’m here, today of all days. And I don’t think I could bear to hear it.”

\--------------------------------------

The porridge was cold and thick at the bottom of the pot when Remus reappeared in the kitchen. Sirius made a show of sniffing hard as he took his seat at the table, Remus’s hair fluffy and still slightly damp.

“You smell clean,” he said. “Too clean. As if you’ve deliberately scrubbed something off yourself.”

“Always need a good scouring after a full moon,” Remus said. “Lily, I’m afraid I haven't brought anything suitable to wear this afternoon.”

“Oh, we’ll find something,” Lily said. “It looks as if neither Monty nor Effie ever threw away an article of clothing. We’ll have to transfigure them a bit to make them the right size but we should be able to figure that out. I suppose Narcissa will be needing something too?”

Remus coughed. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

“She -- Narcissa, that is -- she’s not in trouble is she?” James asked.

Remus nodded. “She is. Her father sent Malfoy to bring her home from school, and she ran away.”

Sirius whistled. “No one defies Cygnus Black without being made to pay for it. Not even his spoiled brat baby princess. She knows that.”

Remus gave another grave nod. “Yes, and she’s quite upset. But she couldn’t go home with Malfoy. Not after he forced Legilimency on her against her will.”

Marlene winced. “By the stars -- why am I not surprised?”

“Wait, now,” James said. “She didn’t just run away from Malfoy and the Blacks. She's run away with you. I know she fancies you, but it makes for far more trouble. Why in the world would she do that?”

“Yes, if she just wanted to get away from the Blacks and their marriage debacle, she could have gone to her sister,” Marlene said. “That would have been far less scandalous.”

“And trust me, Remus,” Sirius said, “this will be a scandal, a dangerous one. One you won’t be able to keep your face out of. And once the press and the Blacks and Malfoys start looking into who you really are, once they get their hands on the registry -- “

“I know,” Remus said. “I know all of this. We both do.”

Sirius shifted to the chair beside Remus, his hands on his shoulders. “Send her back. Get her out of here before anyone else knows she’s come. Marlene’s right. She should go to Andromeda. Send her there. Get them to tell everyone she’s been there all along.”

“Look, she’s not an unruly pet,” Remus said. “You know what she’s like, Sirius. Narcissa goes where she likes. And for now, she -- “ he paused, gathering the nerve to speak the rest, “she says she'll stay where I am.”

Sirius sneered and shoved Remus away.

"She may mean it. She's got rid of the engagement ring already,” Lily observed.

Sirius wasn’t hearing it, saying. "Who cares about rings? You're a married woman and you don't even wear one." He was standing up from the table even as James tried to hold him in place. “I’ll go wake Narcissa myself. I’ll take her to Andromeda. Why not? It’s not like my family can disown me twice. But she has to go. Whatever romantic intentions she may have, she is going to get you killed, Remus. Tell him, James. Pete, tell him. Killed.”

Remus sat back, scrubbing his face with his hands. “We can’t send her back. We’re past that. It’s not that simple anymore.”

"Why not?" Sirius demanded.

Remus was silent, his head bowed.

Lily tried. “So, let me understand, Remus. Narcissa left Malfoy and ran to you?”

“Yes.”

“And she found you at the shack?” James added.

“Yes.”

“D-during a full moon?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why isn’t she dead?” Marlene blurted.

“Because she’s got a creature form,” Peter said. “Veela. And Moony only wants to kill humans.”

James was shaking his head. “Well, thank the stars for the school's chastity charms. You told us Moony fancied Veela Narcissa. So I can only imagine what he would have tried with her without them.”

The whole room waited for Remus’s reply, to confirm. They listened, watching for a nod. There was nothing. He sat with his head still bowed, speechless as the tension mounted.

“Remus Lupin,” Sirius said, shattering the quiet with a manner of speaking very much like his mother Walberga Black’s. “What have you done?”

Remus laid his arm on the table and tugged his sleeve upward. Everyone leaned forward to see.

“She bit you?” Peter said.

Remus nodded. “It’s more than that.”

Lily took his arm, turning it in the sunlight coming through the kitchen windows. “Stars help us. James look, we read about this. Remember? In the book. We read it over Christmas holiday. From the S section.”

He wasn’t getting it yet, thinking out loud, taking Remus’s arm in his hand to see it better. “The soulmates book?”

“Yeah, but it was about all sorts of different soul bonds. And this mark, I remember it,” she said as Remus withdrew his arm, covering the mark with his sleeve. “Remus, don’t tell me this is…”

“A creature bond mark, yes,” he said. “Moony and the Veela -- they bonded us to each other last night.”

James was quick to take up the next point. “Bonded. So then the chastity charms -- “

“No longer affected us,” Remus finished. “Yes, it’s consummated. It’s done.”

Peter gaped, and clapped Remus hard on the back. “Sly old Moony.”

“Oh, yes, sly Moony. He’s signed your death warrant,” Sirius said.

“Come on, Sirius,” Remus said, his humble confessions over, angry now, rising to his feet. “We’ve always known Moony would be the death of me. At least he’s given me the best possible reason to be hunted down. I didn't murder anyone. No, quite the opposite. I -- ”

Sirius was standing too, gutted and sarcastic. “You what? You loved someone?”

“Yes!” Remus shouted at him. “I will die for love. Just like James or Lily would. People die for love, Sirius. If they’re lucky, that’s what they do.”

Sirius spun around to storm out of the room, getting as far as the door before rushing back, grabbing Remus by the front of his jumper. “No, this is not the end of it,” he said. “Dumbledore will be here today and we’re telling him everything. You always do just what he says. He’ll speak sense to you. Promise me Remus. There’s love between you and me too. Honour that, and promise me you’ll ask Dumbledore what to do to save yourself.”

Sirius looked up at him, his jaw clenched, his eyes glassy. Remus returned the look, sad and stoic, as if there was no use and he hardly minded.

They were still locked in this pose when the kitchen door opened. Mitch and Cheryl Evans were arriving for breakfast.

More than anything, Cheryl was craving nicotine, clawing toward the coffee pot instead. She ignored the boys except to say. “Everyone’s up so early. I thought young people were supposed to enjoy a good lie in.”

Mitch shook his head at Sirius and Remus as they let go of each other -- these friends of Jim’s, more wizards taking themselves far too seriously.

\--------------------------------------------

When it was time to get dressed for the funeral, Lily knocked on Narcissa's door. The mood was already grim and entering the museum-like setting of Effie’s bedroom made it more so. Frankly, Lily was almost glad for her company. 

She showed Narcissus what she’d found for them to try. “These are all the black dress robes. The ones that aren't cocktail dresses or ballroom gowns, that is.”

Narcissa hummed. The clothes were too heavy for early spring, and many of them weren’t yet dated enough to be chic. Nothing was right for young women in mourning. “Would you mind if I had a look at the rest of it?" she said. 

Lily picked at the gowns she'd laid on the bed. "Yeah, go on then."

She followed Narcissa into a closet, long and densely packed, like a catacomb. Narcissa pressed past the house dresses Effie wore most often at the end of her life, back through decades of couture. Her wand was flicking hangers off the racks, dresses, skirts, jackets and scarfs hovering in front of her. She was swapping pieces out, frowning and nodding, and just when Lily was about to protest that they couldn't appear at a funeral dressed in mismatched pastels, Narcissa flourished her wand again and the clothes she'd chosen were coloured black.

Lily gasped. “A re-cololuring spell? With just a flick, not even an incantation?”

Narcissa smirked. “These are the spells witches considered decorative accessories by their parents and suitors learn first.” She drifted a smart black suit toward Lily, shrinking its shoulder pads as it came. "There. That's the look of a daughter-in-law everyone can trust to carry on. Oh, one more thing,” she said. “This hat. The little veil just shadows your eyes, so you can cry with dignity if you like.”

Lily ran her hands over the suit as it came to rest on the bed. "It’s perfect. Not even my mother's ever worn anything so posh and stately."

Narcissa shrugged one shoulder. "It’s what suits you best now, Madam Potter." 

As Lily dressed, Narcissa found something for herself. It was a plain sheath dress, long-sleeved, lengthed to end below her knee, with a heavy stole she could wrap around herself and raise over her head, all but disappearing from view for when they went to the churchyard in Godric’s Hollow, where someone unfriendly might see her. She chose it hoping to make herself inconspicuous, but there was nothing inconspicuous about Narcissa Black dressed up like a lady instead of a schoolgirl.

She stood beside Lily in the full length mirror. “Now you look like this family’s future,” Narcissa told her. “It lifts a little of the tragedy.”

Still looking in the mirror together, Lily took Narcissa’s hand. "Thank you."

James was knocking at the door, calling through it. Lily dashed to let him in with the rest of the lads. 

“We need some help,” he began as he rushed inside, but then he froze. “Lily?” He lunged toward her, taking her hands. “You look -- beautiful, and brilliant, like everything is going to be alright, somehow.”

She smiled, her hands on his face as he kissed her mouth, bumping his head on her hat, both of them apologizing and laughing gently into each other’s faces.

As the new Potters greeted each other, Narcissa noticed the reason James had been asking for help. Remus was standing sheepishly behind Peter, his arms half bare in a jacket of Monty's that was far too short. 

“It’s the best we could do with him,” Peter stammered, not used to talking to her.

At the sight of Remus, Narcissa didn't laugh but formed that curving half-smile of hers. She swept past sneering Sirius, his arm linked with Marlene's, and nudged Peter aside. 

"Come here, Lupin."

His look of embarrassment turned to relief as she pulled him into the open, her wand whipping about him, re-tailoring his clothes, lengthening, tapering, smoothing. 

“There," she said, tugging lightly at his cuffs as she finished. She’d brought Remus’s clothes from ridiculous to almost too showy. “Not perfect,” she said, brushing his hair away from his face, “but I like it immensely.”

At her declaration, everyone turned to look. What was most impressive wasn’t the clothing but their faces, Narcissa looking up at him like she’d missed him terribly in the morning they’d been apart, and Remus looking dreamily back, his hands on her elbows as she leaned against him. 

All the gazing into each other's eyes was about to start Sirius raving again. There was a sound like a snarl as Marlene pivoted him toward the door. “We’ll be downstairs, James.”

The room was empty except for James and Lily. Her eyes traveled over him from his head to his shoes. “Look at my darling husband, now done up as the dutiful, loving son and heir.”

He blew out his breath. “Pete’s been down to the ballroom and says it’s packed with guests -- mourners -- whatever. All of the ones from outside the Order think you’re just my girlfriend.”

“The sweetheart,” Lily said, stepping close again, nose to nose with him.

“True enough,” he said. “But I don’t want to go through my parents’ funeral without my wife.” 

He reached into the pocket of his jacket, opened his palm, and revealed a small circle of shining white platinum. “This was Mum’s ring. And this was Dad’s.” He raised his hand to show her the simple ring he already wore, polished bright as a mirror. “They’re identical, of course, perfectly round like stars seen through a telescope. Twin stars. I didn’t want them buried with my parents’ bodies. I wanted us to wear them as they were intended, as wedding rings. It’s a little late, but if it’s alright with you -- ”

Lily’s arms were around his neck, her eyes teary. “Yes, of course. It couldn’t be more right.” 

He found her lips and kissed them, slowly and deeply, as if everyone his parents knew wasn’t waiting for them. His arms closed around her where the suit tapered at the waist as he pulled her heels out of her shoes. Holding her felt as right as it ever did, but also different. She was one of the great ladies of the Potter family. It couldn’t be kept hidden any longer. She was the new matriarch, maybe the most powerful one yet. 

He took her hand as he broke the kiss, sliding the ring onto her finger. “My Madam Potter.”


	25. Twenty-five

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter’s funeral was splendid. In the light rain of a grey spring afternoon, and draped in black crepe and ribbons, the procession wound through Godric’s Hollow led by a handsome young man and wife. The sight of the strange mourners in St. Jerome’s churchyard was enough to make the Muggle townspeople stop and stare. They saw the hearse made to look like an old-fashioned carriage and wondered at how quiet and well-hidden its motor was. It was actually drawn by thestrals, which James and Lily could now see. 

Albus Dumbledore gave a tribute to the old Potters. The new Potters, along with the lads and Bathilda Bagshot, bowed their heads and dropped white roses into the open graves. And then, as quickly as they came, the magical mourners dispersed, leaving the town as ordinary as they’d found it.

The last of the magical folk to leave the churchyard stole away unnoticed by anyone, which was exactly her aim. She was a new hire at the Daily Prophet, trying to attract a promotion by bringing the editors a society page scandal. She had pitched an investigative report on the sudden, simultaneous deaths of the Potters, but the paper had rejected it. An obituary was enough for old people, they’d said. And though no one else was following the story, her senses wouldn’t stop sparking at it. That was the reason she had come all this way on a Saturday to find something -- anything -- at this funeral.

And she had found it. 

No, she didn’t mean the shiny wedding rings on young Potter and his girl. Early marriage was odd, and she would report it. But no one got hurt in a story like that. That’s what made a scandal. 

The real find came completely unexpected. Peeking out of the back of a heavy black stole pulled over the head of a willowy young girlfriend of one of the Potter boy’s friends, were the neatly trimmed ends of a sheaf of long platinum-white hair. The girl’s face has been almost completely shadowed by her head covering and her enormous Muggle filmstar-style sunglasses (an odd choice for a rainy day, to be sure). The rest of her -- her slim build, her age, the distinctive fine sharp nose and flashing hair -- it all matched the description of the schoolgirl daughter of the House of Black reported missing the night before. 

She was the girl whose engagement pictures ran on page 4 last fall, exquisitely coupled with the delightfully dangerous Malfoy heir. Now here she was, eloping to the Potter funeral with some nobody schoolboy with an oh-so interesting scar on his face. That should make it easier to find out who he was, but it would have to wait until later. For now, the photos needed to be developed and submitted in time for the paper’s Sunday morning gossip, er -- society news page.

Rita Skeeter snapped back to London.

\--------------------------------------

After the funeral, the manor was full of members of the Order of the Phoenix and solicitors. There were parchments to sign and seal, all of it keeping James, Lily, and Bathilda busy while dinner was cooked. Tonight would be the first time the Order met with the young Potters and with the lads.

While he waited for dinner, Dumbledore took his truant student Narcissa Black aside. She sat with him in the empty ballroom, the smell of wilting gladiolus still hanging in the air, telling him everything.

After what Snape had done to James in the potions lab, Dumbledore was hardly surprised when Narcissa identified herself as the school’s Veela. Lucius may have denied it when Dumbledore asked him, but the headmaster had never ceased to suspect it. He was surprised, however, to hear that it was not her fiance who had made her romantically active. And he was positively dismayed to hear Malfoy had forced Legilimency on her trying to answer these questions, especially since it happened within Hogwarts, where Narcissa was under Dumbledore’s own protection.

“My dear girl, I am truly sorry. You deserved better from both of us,” he said. He tapped his finger against his bearded jaw. “Of course, this betrayal of your trust breaks the pledge Mr. Malfoy made upon your engagement, and puts you at liberty to leave him, if you choose.”

Narcissa nodded. “Yes, sir. It does. If there are penalties to be paid, they ought to be his to pay. Though Lucius will never admit any wrongdoing, of course.”

“That’s no matter. We can extract the memory from your mind and show it in a pensieve to any tribunal who cares to see it,” he said, miming dusting off his hands.

But Narcissa squirmed in her seat.

“Unless,” Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows, “there is something in the memory you wish to keep hidden. Something, perhaps, to do with the wizard who did indeed make you into a romantically active Veela.”

Narcissa was nodding. “Yes, sir. And it’s not a simple question of protecting his privacy,” she explained. “It's a matter of safety. Perhaps life and death. You see, the wizard -- he's Remus Lupin.”

Dumbledore hummed. “A fine young man, but a complicated partner indeed." He left off tapping his jaw. "And he has been here, in this house, near you all day long, yet no one is reeling under the influence of a romantically active unbonded Veela. Which tells me, Miss Black, that the pair of you must have bonded.”

She wasn’t at all embarrassed as she answered. “Yes, sir.”

He settled his spectacles on his nose. “When?”

“Just yesterday,” she confessed. “When I fled from Malfoy and went to the house where Lupin weathers full-moons. We were both transformed and our creature selves -- they acted rashly, but not contrary to what we both wanted.”

He nodded into his chest, thinking. “It’s a creature bond? Complete with a mark?”

She pushed back her tight black sleeve. “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t look carefully at it, but seemed to take in all the same. “It will fade in a few days, as will its effects. If you were purely creatures, it would last a lifetime. As you are not, your human agency comes to bear, and quickly. As untransformed humans, you must either accept or reject this bond.”

Alarmed, Narcissa leaned forward in her chair. “Accept it? How? How do I make it last?”

Dumbledore spoke gravely in spite of his twinkling eyes. “Now, Miss Black, there are many, many reasons why letting the bond fade may be the best choice -- “

“I know,” she said, interrupting the headmaster for the first time in her life. “My family, my future, Lupin’s status as a registered -- well, anyway. I know all of that. And I don’t care about any of it. How do I keep him with me?”

Dumbledore regarded her over the flat tops of his half-moon lenses. “Your family is known to have dark, vengeful connections, to say nothing of the company the Malfoys have been keeping. In their rage and disappointment, they may hunt Remus Lupin like an animal, and you will lose him all the same. I fear the best you can hope for in a future together is to leave the country and disappear from our society for some time. I must be sure that you understand this.”

Narcissa returned his look, her eyes glistening with tears she hadn’t shed. “I am known to be spoiled, and selfish, slow to give up what I want. It’s all true. Please, sir, tell me what must be done to make the bond permanent, or I will find out some other way. I won’t try to force Lupin, but I won’t just let him leave me either.”

Dumbledore was standing up, dismissing her as if they were still at school. “Now, Miss Black,” he was saying, “we will speak of this again later, after we eat. This is not a decision to be made in the throes of waiting for a late dinner.”

\---------------------------------------------

Everyone in the house was invited to the Order meeting after dinner except for the Evanses and Narcissa. James felt badly when he asked her not to come but she answered, “Stars, no. I’ve already got enough secrets to hide if my family gets hold of me again. And your Lily has very kindly offered to lend me a most interesting book from the library,” she said with a wink to her hostess. “I’ll happily go upstairs and read while you get into your brave, noble trouble.”

Dumbledore himself led the meeting, welcoming everyone in spite of the tragic occasion.

“Tragic? More like criminal,” a voice called out. It was a stocky, wild-looking man dressed mostly in leather.

“That’s him. That’s Alastor Moody,” Lily whispered to James.

“While you were all paying your respects,” Moody said, “I was at Hogwarts with Slughorn going over the cursed letter the new Mrs. Potter collected from old Monty’s sickroom. The one brought here by Corban Yaxley of the Ministry of Magic. And it ought to surprise no one to hear that it was indeed cursed -- lousy with dark magic.”

“From the Ministry? This is a strong accusation, Alastor, and most unfortunate if true,” Dumbledore said.

“It’s no accusation,” Moody insisted. “It’s proof. Proof that Yaxley is a Death Eater, proof the Ministry’s been infiltrated, and proof that their plans include attacking the families of the soulmate pairs, trying to get them to turn themselves over.”

A murmur spread through the room. Alarmed that there might be any doubt, Lily spoke up. “It’s true. They sent thugs to capture my Muggle parents and we barely got them away safely.”

“What about you, Mrs. Longbottom?” Marlene’s mother said. “With Alice and Frank being a soulmate pair, have they come for you?”

She scoffed, as if to say the Death Eaters wouldn’t dare.

“That’s good. But from now on, we must be even more vigilant,” Moody boomed. “Constantly! We’re preparing special protection for you, Mrs. Longbottom. And I won’t hear a single word against it.”

A red-haired man jabbed his nearly identical brother with his elbow and said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “What’d ya reckon, Fabian? Mrs. Longbottom seems none too happy about extra security. And it does seem like the Death Eaters are focused on the Potter pair for now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Prewett. That is exactly my feeling,” said Mrs. Longbottom, hopping out of her chair to stand up and have her own say. “Our Frank is out of danger. He is. Clearly. Tom Riddle has chosen the Potters as his adversaries. They have my sympathy, my support, my grief, and also my thanks. Riddle has attacked the Potters through his agents, in person, and through their parents while he hasn’t raised so much as an eyebrow to Frank or Alice.”

Dumbledore fiddled with his spectacles. “I do hope you’re right, Augusta. How elated we would all be if Frank and Alice were no longer threatened. But this is an assumption too dangerous to make. I agree with our comrades. We must begin additional security measures.”

Frank was reaching for his mother’s hand, coaxing her to take her seat again as she shook herself free. “No, Albus. Outlandish protections backfire. If we persist in over-protecting Frank and Alice, in marrying them off so young, bringing a child into their childhoods, we only draw more attention to them,” she argued. “Let them fade into a peaceful, happy life. Let them go away from all of this.”

Peter sat behind her, perhaps unaware he was nodding his head so furiously along with Mrs. Longbottom’s argument.

“Mum, please,” Frank was saying, succeeding at last at taking her by the hand. “Alice and I are of age and we know our role in the soulmate pairing is still vital, if only to draw fire away from the true pair, if it doesn’t turn out to be us. We won’t withdraw our help now.”

Augusta huffed. “The moment you hold that child in your arms, you will want to disappear with him as much as I would have you disappear right now.”

“Mum, it’s okay,” Frank said, standing up next to her now. “You didn’t raise me to run away. That’s not who I am. That’s not who Alice is. And I know it’s certainly not who you are.”

Augusta looked up at her tall, brave son, her chin quivering. He closed an arm around her and lowered both of them into their chairs.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “If I may add another consideration. We have learned that our soulmate pairs are not the only ones in play. The dark always mimics what is best in the light. Riddle has been working to force a counterfeit soulmate match among his youngest members to challenge ours. It’s a desperate ploy and he has nothing but superficial, outward appearances to guide him in it. These have led him to match the Malfoy heir and the youngest of Cygnus Black’s daughters, the sister of his lieutenant Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Remus sat bent over in his seat, the heels of his hands ground into his temples, his fingers grasping his hair. After a private meeting with Dumbledore about his lovelife, he had come to the meeting already uncomfortable. Now, he was slipping into agony.

“Both young people are from wealthy, land-owning families Riddle considers important. They look alike to the point of resembling siblings. They are healthy, young, handsome and -- as far as Riddle knows -- well-behaved and willing,” Dumbledore went on. “He is acutely interested in their future heir, hoping to bring to life his own rival chosen one. He aims to conjure a miraculous child out of pride and fear, when only love will do.”

The room fell quiet at this. Peter was still staring miserably at the back of Alice’s head. Sirius sat between him and Remus with his arms still folded defiantly across his chest, but his head now bowed in thought. Remus remained bent in half, as if in pain, while James patted him on the shoulder.

“What Riddle hadn’t counted on,” Dumbledore resumed, “was Miss Black’s admirable willfulness. Many of you will have noticed her here in our midst today. She has left Malfoy. When Riddle learns of it, he will be incensed.”

“Then this house is a target,” someone said.

“It was already a target,” James called back. “I’m liquidating it, setting up house somewhere secret. Until then, we’re all going back to school, where we’ll be safe at least until the summer.”

“So he speaks,” Moody said, rounding to face James. “Young Potter, assailed by Riddle on every side, future father of the chosen one -- he finally has something to say for himself.”

James blushed, his usual confidence flagging for a moment under Moody’s manic eyes. They seemed to dart and search the entire space even as he looked James full in the face. 

“I’ve been speaking all along,” James managed to say. “I’ve been asking, begging to know what we’re supposed to do. We got married like everyone wanted. We sat and did nothing while my parents sacrificed themselves. And for what? Someone tell me what for? And what’s next?”

Dumbledore took the floor again. “The truth is we’re not sure how to proceed, at this point. We monitor Riddle and his agents. We mitigate harm where we can. When it is not horrifying, as it was in this house this week, our work is slow, maddening tension. In my way, I feel as you do, James. It’s as if Riddle is stalling, working away at something while keeping his violence below the level where we could convince the authorities to act. We search for answers, and wait for you and the Longbottoms to grow into your families. We gather strength, we protect each other as best we can.”

“It’s unbearable,” Augusta Longbottom said, her hand still gripped to Frank’s.

“It very nearly is. And in desperation, I am driven to prophecy,” Dumbledore said. “I have been interviewing seers to help us. I am claiming to be in need of a Divination teacher at the school. It is a ruse I continue now as a mere diversion. For I think,” Dumbledore paused, extending his arm, “I think we have found the Order’s own seer.”

His arm remained stretched out, his hand open, motioning for Lily Potter to stand. She rose and took his hand as he led her out to present her to the group. “In the coming days, we shall see what young Madam Potter has to tell us.”

She blinked at him. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“You will,” he said. “But not on your own. You have the gift. We have help.”

The room was suddenly warmer, brighter, as if the sun had rolled backward in the sky to light the place where Lily Potter stood. It was an effect of the arrival of Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix. It alighted on the arm Dumbledore held out between himself and Lily. 

Somehow, James knew to stand with her, to ease her head backward, against his shoulder. As he did, the bird craned its neck toward her, and a tear spilled out of its eye, falling as if in slow motion, splashing onto the cornea of Lily’s open, upturned eye. She blinked its magic into herself.

\---------------------------------------

Fawkes had gone, the meeting had ended, James and Lily had gone to bed, and everyone was eating again when Remus filled his hands with biscuits and two yellow apples and dashed up the stairs to Narcissa. 

He bit back his panic. Did she know what she meant to Tom Riddle, all this time? Had she guessed that there was so much evil and venom hidden within her connection to Malfoy? She must have thought their engagement was about a transfer of money and land, a preservation of family bloodlines, but this -- this was beyond vulgar, beyond horrifying.

He heard his own nerves in the too-fast, too-hard rapping of his knuckles against her bedroom door. She was slow to answer, as if she’d been asleep. The door opened just a crack at first. The light was dim behind her, coming from the fireplace and a single lamp.

“It’s you,” she said, her voice high and soft with sleep. “Come in then.”

He closed the door, setting the food on a dressing table. She was walking away from him, expecting him to follow her, returning to the bed where she had tucked herself in to read Lily’s book on soulbonds hours before. He turned to face her, and choked.

“What -- what are you wearing?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, which was bare except for a thin black strap running over it. Each of her shoulder straps were attached to a small, fitted black dress just a little shorter than the dress she’d worn to the funeral. From the way it reflected the light, Remus assumed that the fabric must be satiny, smooth and filmy. There was movement in the skirt but she would have tailored the bodice herself, and it now fit as well as something painted onto her skin. 

Remus had never seen her untransformed and so scantily dressed, not even at the Yule Ball in fifth year when most of her dress bodice had been made of lace that was sheer in all but the most vital places. They hadn’t even been friends at that ball, but somehow he remembered.

And here she was, walking around in front of him like this was nothing at all. “Oh, this? This is the slip I found in old Madam Potter’s closet this morning. I’ve had it on under my dress all day. It makes fabric drape nicely and gives an extra layer, for modesty.”

“M-modesty,” was all he was able to mutter. Nothing she’d said explained why she had met him at the door in what she admitted was a kind of underwear. He could hardly blink.

“Slips are old fashioned, I know. That’s traditional pure-blood family backwardness,” she said, turning in a circle as he continued to gape at her thin white legs, her graceful arms and shoulders, the pale decolletage bared by the low neckline, plunging to give more than a hint of her chest.

“Backwardness,” he managed to stammer, shaking his head as she went on. 

“Yes, my mother raised me to always be fully dressed underneath my clothes. Anyway, I’m glad I have it since it’s doing double duty today. I didn’t bring anything to wear to bed, so this will do. It’s rather like a nightgown in some ways. Light and comfortable -- Lupin -- Lupin what are you doing?”

He had taken off his own cotton, button-up shirt and was standing in front of her in a white t-shirt, taking her wrist and trying to cram her arm down the length of his empty sleeve. “Cissa, you can’t -- I can’t -- just, please -- whatever your mother told you, you are not fully dressed, not at all, you mad thing.”

She laughed at him, letting him get the shirt over one of her arms, hanging it across her shoulder. She bent her other arm between them, holding it up to his face, showing him the mark he’d made on her. Dumbledore was right. It was getting harder to see. But it was still clearly visible, even in the near dark. 

“Don’t you remember this?” she said through a sly smile. “It means whatever we see of each other is chaste. There’s no need for you to be stodgy when it comes to how I’m dressed.” She closed her arms around his neck, one wearing his sleeve, the other cool and bare. “Especially when we’re alone,” she said, rising onto her toes, her cheek pressed to his, half whispering, half kissing his ear. “All chaste, my noble darling.”

With a groan he detached her arms from around his neck and held them wedged and pinned between them with his arms clamped around her back. Behind her, he held onto his own wrist to keep from touching too much of her. But this close, it wasn’t just his hands that were feeling her. Warm and curving, her body was pressed all along his. She moved in his hold, smirking at his response.

He cleared his throat. “It’s not about stodginess. It’s about how much I can bear before I…” He didn’t finish, indulging instead in looking down at the whiteness of her skin against the black of her slip.

She cut off his view, leaning over her immobilized arms to use the tip of her nose to trace the neckline of his T-shirt, nuzzling past it, breathing on his collar bones. “Before you what?” she said, her lips brushing his skin, taunting. “We’re not at before anymore, Lupin. It’s done. We’re in the after. There’s nothing more to bear.”

“By the stars, woman,” he said, leaning away from her with his head, forgetting it would have the effect of pulling their lower bodies closer together. 

She was laughing at him again. Admirably willful was what they’d called her downstairs. Spoiled brat was what Sirius had called her at breakfast. All Lupin knew was he adored both, and he kissed her quickly, muffling her laughter for a moment, preparing to ask what he had to know. “What did Dumbledore tell you today?”

She was groaning now. “Nothing. I told him everything, he told me nothing. Well, except for that our creature bond won’t bind us for long unless we accept it while we’re not transformed.”

He was nodding, as if he’d been told the same.

She went on. “I made the mistake of threatening to find out how to accept the bond another way if Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me how himself. He is, apparently, fine with that and so I’ve been reading this book of Lily’s, trying to sort it out -- “

He was shaking his head, interrupting. “You’re already that far along? Ready to accept it?”

She scoffed. “Obviously. If I wasn’t, I’d have answered the door dressed in one of Euphemia Potter’s floor length flannel nightgowns. Because that’s how it’s done, Lupin. I accept you by having my way with you as my untransformed self. Creature magic isn’t complicated. And so,” she said, grabbing his shirt in both hands and straining toward the bed.

“Wait,” he said, not letting her move him. “Stop and listen to me. And don’t be angry.”

“Stars, Lupin, what now?”

“I made a promise -- to Dumbledore. I promised him that before I accepted you, I’d sleep on it.” He loosened his grip on her, expecting her to flounce away, annoyed.

But instead, she took advantage of her range of movement to slide her arms underneath his, roving beneath the edge of his T-shirt, up inside to touch his stomach, her hands against his bare skin. “And so we pit your obedience to a school teacher against my capacity to seduce you, is that it?”

Remus was fighting for breath as her hands trailed up over his chest, kneading into his shoulders, before dragging themselves back down to his waistband. “Cissa,” he managed to exhale. “Please. Keeping my word isn’t even half of it. I don’t want to look back on this as an accident, as something based on creature appetites, or,” he paused, swallowing hard, “ a reaction to you suddenly finding yourself alone.”

Narcissa’s hands stopped moving, and a sadness stole over her face, tearing at his heart as he watched it come. He was quick to slip his hand inside his shirt to hold hers, his grasp warm and sure. “I don’t want you to ever remember tonight and wonder if I came running up here as soon as I could for any reason other than the real one. And the real one is that I love you.”

Her head tipped forward, her forehead on his shoulder. He kissed her hair, waited a moment, and jostled her lightly, as if to shake the new sadness loose. 

“You love me,” she said, raising her head, her lip thrust out slightly, in that pout of hers.

“Yes, you know that,” he said, outlining her lip with his fingertip. “Wear all the flannel housecoats you want. It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you. But let me talk to you before we decide to do this. Let me sleep on it, like I said I would.”

She sighed and put her bare arm in the second sleeve of the shirt he’d been trying to get her to wear. He smoothed it over her shoulders and rolled the cuffs to shorten the sleeves. “Fine," she said as he worked on it. "But I’m not buttoning this up. Now do your talking.”

They sat on the bed and ate what he’d brought. Her bare feet were cold so she wound them in the blankets. Her shivering worsened as he told her what Dumbledore had said about Riddle’s plans to force her into a dark soulmate pair.

“They wanted me for a Death Eater chosen one breeding plot?” she said. “And my father agreed to it?"

"No one said that," Remus rushed to say. "It sounded like it had more to do with Bellatrix Lestrange."

Narcissa scoffed. "Bella. Of course. If she had a thousand sisters she’d happily give them all to Riddle. Well, that engagement was even more of a near miss than I knew."

“Is it a miss though?” he asked, handing her an apple now that the biscuits were gone, clearing the crumbs from her sheets with his wand. “Or might they still come find you and drag you back? The stakes are higher than we knew. When they come, it won’t just be pissy Malfoy. It might be Riddle himself.”

She buffed the apple against the skirt of her slip. “I need to plan, I suppose. I should be terrified, shouldn’t I? But I’m,” she glanced up at him, coy. “I’m distracted tonight. It can wait, can’t it? There are other things I want settled first.”

“Like getting your dowry out of the bank?”

“Remus Lupin -- no,” she said, her voice rising. “Though maybe that is a place to start. I don’t know. What I mean, of course, is that, now that it’s started, I want to complete my bond with you. I swear, you play dense just to make me say these things.”

“Say what things?” he said, lying on his back against her lacy pillows, blinking innocently at the ceiling, his hands linked behind his head. There was a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

She fell onto her stomach beside him, nestled close. She propped her head and shoulders up on one elbow. “You’re trying to get me to tell you that I love you,” she said. “And I do.”

He rolled toward her, his hand on her waist over the shirt of his. He moved as if to kiss her but he was still smirking too much, so she covered her mouth with the apple and bit into it instead. He veered to land the kiss on her cheek and took the apple from her as he drew away, biting into it himself. 

“Malfoy and the Death Eaters didn’t just want me,” she said. “They wanted my Draco too.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, swallowing a jagged mouthful of apple. “Your what?”

“Draco,” she said, as if it made sense. “That’s the constellation I’ve chosen to name my future son after. I had to claim it ages ago, before any of the other sisters and cousins of my generation used it. Surely you’ve noticed how we name ourselves for stars in our family.”

“Yes, Sirius tipped me off,” he said.

“Right,” she nodded. “My Draco’s been in my imagination for ages. He’ll be tall, long arms and legs. Not lanky but not bulky either -- the kind of boy who could just as easily dance ballet as play quidditch.”

Remus breathed a laugh. “Dreamy. What else?”

“He’s mine so he’ll have to be fair. Hair no darker than,” she twisted her forefinger into Remus’s wavy mop, “no darker than a light, sandy brown but maybe as light as mine. Gorgeous either way.”

“Is he spoiled though? I hear pretty babies get spoiled,” Remus said, bumping his nose, doglike against her cheek.

“Terribly spoiled. That personality of his,” she clucked her tongue. “The more I love him, the more insufferable he’ll be to everyone else. But he’ll survive, Lupin. Whatever this nightmare society throws at him, my wolfish little boy will be clever and he will have me and a father who truly loves him and he will get by. No one will trade him to a Dark Lord, like my sister has done to me.”

“Wolfish,” Remus repeated, reaching over her, setting the apple core on the bedside table behind her. With the same motion his torso came to rest on top of hers. “So, the metamorphagus quality that your little niece has, where her hair keeps changing colour -- I’d like for my future son to have that. Is it a trait of your family’s or is it the Tonks’s?”

She settled underneath him, savouring the weight of him holding her down, shifting to urge him to cover her completely. He wouldn’t, but he did lay his head on her shoulder. Her hand rose to comb through his hair. “That must be Ted,” she said. “Though it’s hard to tell with a Muggle-born.”

“My mother’s a Muggle,” he said, lifting his head and closing in, face to face, a breath away from kissing her. “Maybe we could be lucky with our son’s hair too.” He fit his lips into hers, inhaling deeply to take in her smell, and then her taste as she opened up to him. He’d held himself back too long and the kiss was hotter than he intended. He didn’t mean to lick and strain and paw at her, his hands and mouth ravaging her face and throat and shoulders until his hand was inside the shirt, fingers beneath the black strap of her slip, about to shove it aside. Her hands were inside his clothes too, her fingers in the patch of downy hair at the base of his spine.

Sliding deep into kissing her was so natural now, he didn’t realize how far he’d gone until she broke away, reaching back at what he’d said about being lucky. “We could be -- what? Lupin -- “

“Hush, Cissa,” he said. He wiped her glistening lip dry with the pad of his thumb and pushed himself away, rolling onto his back again with an uneasy grunt. “Sorry. I’ll be over here. I nearly forgot. I need to sleep on this.”

\----------------------------

It was three o’clock in the morning. In two hours, the Sunday Daily Prophet would begin to circulate the story of the Potters’ funeral and things would become much more complicated. But for now, Remus Lupin was waking up next to Narcissa Black in the manor. He had fallen asleep beside her while she read a book about how they could stay together. It lay on the sheet behind her, along with his shirt, which she had taken off for sleeping. The room’s fire was a bed of dimly glowing red coals, but the moon was still nearly full, clawing after him, as it always did, its light white and revealing, shining on the bed.

Even with her back turned, she was almost painfully beautiful to him. She looked small and sweet, but he liked her even better when she was awake and active. He liked her. He loved her. He wanted her so much. They weren’t touching but he could feel the warmth of her. How could she want him too? It was ridiculous. But here she was, following him, waiting, asking. The memory of her body joined to his was muddled by his creature brain but alive inside him, not a dream but real, magically pure -- everything..

He eased his arm around her waist and pulled her to where he lay on his side, her back against his front. He let his face sink into her pale, shining hair, his breath on her neck. She stirred and stretched, her voice soft and wordless. He waited while she drifted back to him.

“You’re up early,” she said.

He leaned over her, finding her wrist, the one he had marked, lifting it to kiss it. He whispered again that he loved her. She hummed, contented. 

He had done his sleeping. He laid her hand back down on the mattress and set his palm on her hip, sliding it over the silky fabric of her slip, all the way to its hem, his fingertips on her thigh, barely grazing her skin, shaking with nerves again.

“We’ve both had the chance to sleep on it,” he said. “I won’t rush you, but I’m ready, and I want you to know. Narcissa Black, you perfect creature, the best of girls, will you accept our bond?”

She flipped onto her back to see his face, no longer tired. “Ready? I’ve been ready all day. But you -- do you mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You know I’m cautious. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but I have to be. It’s too precious. It’s you.”

She tipped him toward herself, taking all of his weight on top of her this time. “Remus Lupin,” she said against his mouth. “My love, I accept.”


	26. Twenty-six

It was late in the evening after the lads’ first meeting with the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone had gone home, even Auntie Bathilda. The lads sat as they had for years, in James’s room, in front of the fire. They were exhausted but unable to rest.

Remus was absent, disappeared into a room further along the corridor with Narcissa Black. They had little hope of seeing him again that night, but Sirius still sat with the taut impatience of someone waiting.

James had fallen into a rhythm of brushing Lily's hair from her forehead with his fingers as she lay in his lap. She gave a noisy sigh. "Why don't I feel any different?"

James tutted. "Give it time, love."

Peter flopped over in his chair. "Maybe you already felt the way anyone allowed to take a phoenix tear in the eye would feel. Who's to say?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore promised you help, not that you'd be transfigured into a nonstop wireless prophecy machine," James said, gathering her up, lifting his knees to raise her face closer to his. "And thank the stars for that. I like you the way you are."

"Listen to you, James, standing up for Dumbledore," Peter said. "You sound like Remus."

There was a snarl as Sirius launched himself onto his feet and began to pace on the rug. Remus had met privately with Dumbledore, just as he had promised Sirius he would. And even after that, he'd rushed off to Narcissa as soon as the meeting was over. It was past midnight now and they were still together.

All at once, Sirius lunged for the door. 

“Rus, leave them alone,” James called after him.

“I am,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m going out to run on my own for a while. There’s plenty of moonlight out there, and no bloody soulbonds."

The door slammed after him. Peter jumped, his eyes darting in James’s direction. “Should I go with him?”

James shook his head. “No, you heard him. He needs to clear his mind on his own.”

Peter looked off into the fire. “A part of me wants to say it’s too bad Marlene didn’t stay the night to care for him, maybe to finally start a proper relationship with him after all this time. I imagine he’d be game. But another part of me doesn’t want everyone to go pairing off without me. This group of us -- I’m not sure who I’d be outside of it, alone.”

“You wouldn't be alone. There's someone for you” James said, smoothing Lily’s forehead with his knuckle as she closed her eyes, sleepy, giving up trying to have visions for the night. “It might not happen for years, Pete. And it might never happen with the person who’d be your first choice right now, but it will happen.”

“Cold comfort, Prongs,” Peter said, letting his face fall into his hands. “Longbottom -- did you hear him in the meeting tonight? So bloody perfect and noble. It’s not fair to myself to compare him to a useless rat-boy like me -- ”

“Pete, stop that,” James said. “If anyone knows you’re worthy of love it’s us, the lads and me. Your partner for life will come. And when she does, she’ll mean even more to you than any of us ever did."

“You love Lily more than us,” Peter said.

James gave a half-smile, apologetic. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

“And what about Remus and Narcissa Black? You reckon she’s more important than anyone to him now?”

James sighed. “I can’t say I understand them. The creature bond thing -- their entire creature identities aren’t like ours. It’s different. And since their ties double back over Sirius’s family troubles it’s -- well it’s painful watching Sirius trying to deal with it. Imagine. He’s sworn off his family as depraved and dangerous just to have one of them come ‘round trying to draw his best mate away. But if it turns out Remus has to decide between us and Narcissa, and he chooses her, I wouldn’t blame him.” She dropped a gentle kiss on Lily’s forehead as she slept. “How could I?”

Peter sat blinking in the firelight. “You wouldn’t blame him? For choosing a woman over us?”

The question was charged, like a dare, risky. James wasn’t sure how to give his answer. But Peter wasn’t after a reply. He was pressing on with more questions.

“Do you trust that Mrs. Longbottom?” Peter said. “Frank’s mum. She wants to keep him and Alice safe so badly, what if she were to plant something for the Death Eaters to make it look like there was definitely no other soulmate pairing but the two of you? And then Riddle would find and kill you both, just like that?”

James frowned. “Find? I’m hardly hiding right now, Pete. Sitting here in a house with my family name on it. And killing? No, if Riddle was going to solve his problems with a lot of killing, he’d just finish off all four of us straight away, wouldn’t he? My parents couldn’t produce any more magical offspring so they must have had no qualms about their deaths. But as for the rest of us, we can still be useful in Riddle’s whole sick 'preserving our way of life' project. We just need to be turned around, as far as he’s concerned. And if we’re not, Malfoy’s evil spawn will fight with ours in their generation and on and on.”

Peter sighed at the bleakness of this tiresome conflict lasting all of their lives, into their children’s.

He would have said something about it, but James was getting up, laying Lily on the sofa. His movements were slow, as if he was gliding rather than walking across the room. He came to a stop at the window, and spoke as if addressing the sky. “Tom Riddle is quiet tonight. Preparing. He is changing, growing. The game changes. The rules of life and death…”

His voice trailed off, lost. But behind him, Lily was rising to sit upright on the sofa. “Life and death,” she resumed, “they will unlock, shift. And when they are moved, he shall move. We shall move.”

Peter sat back in his seat, dumbfounded. James turned from the window, his eyes slightly glazed but searching for Lily through the firelight. She looked back at him and lifted one hand from her lap. In it she held something in the tips of her fingers: a glass ball, smokey with white mist, their second orb of prophecy. 

\-----------------------------------------------

The sun was rising and Narcissa Black was waking up next to Remus Lupin for the second morning in a row. Unlike the first time, she knew exactly where she was and what had happened between them in the night. Like before, he lay on his stomach, his arm hanging over the edge of the bed, his hand trailing on the floor, his back exposed. This must be his sleeping habit, something learned in all those years in the too-narrow beds at Hogwarts. But as they slept, she had crowded him, and now she was waking up with her face on his back, warm, the scent of his skin filling her head.

She wasn’t looking at him as she opened her eyes, but at her own wrist, and the mark on it that had faded almost entirely to a thin, silver crescent very like a moon -- the perfect sign of her bond with this werewolf, now complete. At that moment, he looked like nothing but a man. He was her man, and she turned her head to brush her mouth along the smooth skin of his back, stretching her arm over him and holding him around the waist. 

His skin was pale and un-freckled. Yes, their Draco would be fair -- if they could ever find the kind of life they could bring him into. This hiding in James Potter’s house -- this wasn’t it. Running from her family and the Death Eaters was not it either. She closed her eyes against those realities. In a matter of hours, they would be unignorable. But for now, she inched along Remus’s side, pulling the blankets with her, draping them over his bare skin and settling her head onto his pillow. The back of his head was facing her, all that tousled brown hair, the hair she had tugged at as...

She shivered against him, remembering, nestling close again. After all her repositioning, he was disturbed enough to pull his arm back into bed and turn from his stomach onto his side, still not facing her.

“Such a heavy sleeper,” she muttered, tracing the edge of his ear.

Underneath the blankets, he hooked his foot over her ankle, waking up with a sound of satisfaction almost like a chuckle. “Daylight,” he said.

“Yes, the sun is coming up just so I can see you better,” she said, speaking over his shoulder.

He hummed. “It’s lucky you’re looking at my good side then.”

She scoffed. “As I keep telling you, I like all sides of you.”

He reached for her hand where it lay on his shoulder, pulling it forward to kiss it. Then he remembered the mark, their bond, and examined her wrist. “It’s hardly there anymore,” he said. “Were we too late?”

“It’s there,” she argued as he found and traced the faint silver moon on her skin with the gentle sweep of his thumb. “Only it’s subtle. Almost secret. You’re half made of secrets already. It suits you.”

“It looks like I’ve tattooed you,” he said, the frown audible in his voice.

But she laughed. “My darling, you’ve done far more than that.” And since he wouldn’t roll over to face her, she slipped up and over him, falling onto the mattress at his front, face to face at last. There he was, his fine nose and brow marked with scars, his eyes thoughtful even when sleepy and sensuous in bed with her.

“Done more than that? At your continued insistence, yes I did,” he said, curling an arm around her, watching as she inspected the matching mark on his own wrist.

“My insistence?” she said. “Who was it that woke me up in the middle of the night to claim me?”

He was smirking, bringing his nose to hers. “I was only letting you know I had decided. I told you it could wait.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t true,” she said, dipping her chin to kiss him high on his neck, below his jaw. She had worried their attraction might slacken once the tension driving them to complete the bond had been eased. This was not the case. Remus tilted his head back at the touch of her mouth, his hands reaching for her in ways he wouldn’t have dared yesterday morning. All of her was his now, body and soul, woman and creature. She knew it, gloried in it, leaning into his touch, reaching for him in return. 

They were young and still famished for each other, their responses quick. The daylight changed the dynamic from the night before, as they filled each other’s visual senses as well as all the others. It was new again, ecstatic.

She was pushing him onto his back. “Don’t you ever try to tell me,” she said, kissing him from above, “that you are anything but beautiful.”

\------------------------------------------

Padfoot came trotting out of the woods that separated Potter manor from the lane running alongside its grounds. The sun had fully risen, and the light had moved out of the dimness where he had an advantage over human eyes and into the coloured light of day. It meant he could smell more than see the newcomers. They smelled like home, like rooms in the manors of the House of Black, and in the most dreadful way.

Standing in the lane, arguing quietly amongst themselves stood Lucius Malfoy, Regulus, and an older man Sirius didn’t know. “This is a bad scene. Yaxley acted too soon and too rashly,” Malfoy was saying. “The old Potters are no longer available as hostages. We’ll have to deal with young Potter directly. Him and his wife and whatever other rabble they’ve got in there with our Narcissa.”

“Come, Malfoy. Yaxley performed as intended,” the stranger said. “The Potters shouldn't have died so soon. They must have let it happen on purpose as some kind of advantageous magic. It couldn’t have been foreseen."

"Whatever the reason, Carrow," Malfoy said, "Without hostages we’ve no leverage to get Narcissa to come home. We’ll have to ferret her out with a show of force."

"But the Mudblood might be hiding her parents here," the man named Carrow argued. "What better hostages are there than those?"

"We cannot count on finding them," Malfoy said.

The Carrow man huffed. "Even when your fiancée needs rescue, your caution is cowardice, Malfoy. What do you plan to do if the boy she’s run away with is prone to heroics?"

Malfoy waved his hands. “He’s no one of consequence. A trifle. A show of force will spook them and they will apparate to the school gates. Bella should be there waiting to collect them by now.”

As the men argued, Regulus’s attention drifted. He was looking into the trees along the lane, looking at Padfoot. Their eyes locked, both of them frozen, motionless.

“What about the numbers?” Malfoy was saying. “There are more of them in the house than us, isn’t that what you said, Regulus? There were more students than just Potter himself missing from breakfast at school this morning, weren’t there?”

“Yes,” Regulus answered, still staring straight ahead. He paused. In his silence, Padfoot lifted his front paw, as if to spring away. “There was Potter, and his Mudblood, and a few more...”

“Well, how many, boy?” Carrow bawled at him. “Speak up.”

There was one more pause. “Oh, at least four. Maybe more. Let me see…” As he looked away, Regulus gave Padfoot a nod, signalling him to disappear into the woods. Without alerting his companions that the dog had come and gone, Regulus turned to them, humming and fussing, as if trying hard to remember who was missing from school that weekend. 

As he did, Padfoot sped to the manor to sound the alarm. He ran at full tilt, feet barely touching the ground, bounding through the undergrowth, leaping out of his dog form as he reached the door of the manor. 

“Remus!” he shouted as he crashed through the door.

James came racing out of the kitchen, towing him to a stop. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Sirius doubled over to catch his breath. “It’s Malfoy. He’s here with another Death Eater, come to get Narcissa and bring her home. They’ve got Regulus with them too, but he let me get away. I don’t know why. And I don’t know how they know to look for her here, but she has to go before they come, any minute now.”

Lily came skidding out of the kitchen, the newspaper in her hands. “Lads, look here, the funeral,” she said. “There must have been a reporter lurking at the funeral. Look at the picture they took.”

There on the thin, yellow newspaper parchment was a picture of Narcissa, almost completely obscured by her stole and sunglasses, her arm linked through Remus’s and her chin on his shoulder. The caption beneath the picture identified her as the runaway bride from the house of Black. 

Sirius swore and bolted up the stairs. “Hide the Evanses,” he called over his shoulder. “They may want them as hostages.”

He stumbled over his own feet on the rug in the upstairs corridor, falling into and then through the door of Remus’s bedroom. Remus was standing in the centre of the floor, a towel around his waist, drying his hair.

“You’re up. Thank the stars,” Sirius said, throwing clothes and shoes at him. “You’ve got to leave. And not back to the school. The very worst of them is waiting for you there.”

Remus shook his head. “Who is?”

“The Death Eaters -- Malfoy, cousin Bellatrix. They want their chosen one breeder back, the one you took,” Sirius said. Remus still hadn’t started to dress so Sirius took a freshly Scourgified T-Shirt and pulled it over Remus’s head himself.

Remus shook his head again. “They've come for her already?”

“Yes, get a move on,” Sirius said. “You can’t be here. And you can’t be with her. You go one way, Narcissa goes another.”

“Rus, will you wait up,” Remus said, snatching his trousers out of Sirius’s hands.

“No, I will not. You have to run. This is what you chose when you chose her. You knew that,” he said. “Now go. Regulus is trying to give you a head start. Don’t waste it.”

Remus growled to himself as he finished dressing. “Wait!” he called helplessly as Sirius left him struggling into his shoes, darting across the hall to Narcissa’s room.

“She’s already downstairs,” Lily called after him, leading her parents out of their room, down the stairs and into the ballroom, where they could leave the house through the back terrace. “Peter and I are going to get Mum and Dad safely away."

Mitch was squinting through the ballroom. "It's not brooms again, is it? I'm still dead sore from the last time."

"Sorry, Dad," she said. "We've got to get to Bathilda’s cottage. It’s not far. James will stay here to answer to Malfoy.”

She hated it more as she said it aloud, and she turned back, looking speechless at James.

“It’s alright, love,” he said. “I’ll see you by dinner time. You know I will.”

Something in her mind’s eye seemed to flash, giving her confidence. She made a sharp nod and followed Peter outside.

“There,” Sirius said, rounding on Remus. “Even James and Lily are splitting up for this. Send Narcissa away, make yourself scarce, and I’ll stay with James.”

But Remus was pivoting past him. “Cissa!” he called, crossing the entrance hall to take her arm.

“I’m sorry, Lupin,” she said, taking his hands. “It’s all my fault. I wasn’t careful enough at the funeral -- “

“Right, so be careful now,” Sirius said. “Go. Go to Andromeda’s family.”

“No!” James was as startled as anyone to hear himself shouting Sirius down, his voice loud and deep in the high, echoing space. He looked around the room, as if trying to find whoever had spoken in his voice. 

It had been enough to get Remus to look away from Narcissa’s face. “You alright, James?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “No, actually. And I don’t know why I’m saying this, but don’t go to Andromeda, especially not together.”

And then it came -- a pounding at the front doors, and a voice muffled but audible. It was Malfoy. “Open up, Potter,” he said. “I know you’re in there. You have something of mine and I will have it back. Now.”

At the sound of his voice, at the words that he spoke, Narcissa’s entire demeanor changed. She was no longer apologetic. Her posture straightened, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth became a stern line. “Wands out, lads. And open the door.”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said. “Now go.”

“No, Sirius. I will not spend the rest of my life running from that ridiculous fop outside. He was first to breach our engagement pledge with that Legilimency attack. And he’ll either let me go gracefully or I’ll let everyone know what he did. He hasn’t been able to overpower me before, and he won’t do it now.” She shook her hair out of her face. “Now get the door, Potter.”

“Wait, love,” Remus was saying. “It’s not just Malfoy out there.”

“Right,” Sirius argued. “There are three of them.”

She nodded. “That’s one fewer than there are of us, and one of theirs is Regulus. It’s a perfect time to take a stand and let them know I won’t be driven around like some scared, witless breeding mare.”

Sirius spun in place, pulling at his hair. “You’re willing to risk Remus along with yourself then? Just like that?”

Remus was starting to argue when James interrupted again. “What if we were to hide Remus? It will still look like three against three. And I agree, we can’t start letting them spook us and chase us all over the country. We’re Order of the Phoenix now. We’re supposed to resist.”

Remus was nodding. “Good. Yes, I’ll be here but out of sight. Cloak, James. Give me the cloak.”

James swept his Invisibility Cloak over Remus as Narcissa strode toward the door, her wand in her fist. Malfoy gasped and fell back at the sight of her standing defiant in front of him, Sirius and James visible behind her, their wands drawn.

“Go home, Lucius,” she said. “You violated our engagement pledge. You violated me. There is no longer a bond between us and you have no claim on me.”

He was recovering himself, sneering at her. “Violated? Spare me your sick fantasies.”

“Yes, of course you’d deny it. And you’ve got the cheek to do it right in front of Regulus, who found me roaming the castle hysterical after you forced Legilimency on me in my own common room,” she said.

Regulus jumped in recognition, his face white, grimacing.

“If you dispute it,” she went on, “I’ll distill the memory into a Pensieve, and make it known everywhere.”

Malfoy didn’t flinch, but stepped closer to her, crossing the threshold, coming into the house. “Ah, but if it were true, and if you made it known, what would you give as a motive for my alleged Legilimency? What could you accuse me of that would not reveal your lover, the one who made you romantically active?”

She scoffed. “Everyone who takes the Sunday paper believes they already know my private affairs. There’s no more scandal for you to threaten me with.”

Malfoy smirked. “Your affairs are common knowledge, are they? You’ve nothing to lose? Then tell me his name. Hm? Must be a boy from school. Gryffindor house, I’d assume, if you’ve followed him here. Look at Regulus’s shocked little face there. He knows already, doesn’t he?”

“All of this means nothing to you,” she snarled. “You have no relationship with me anymore. Scuttle back to your master and leave me alone.”

“Enough,” said the man at Malfoy’s elbow. “These petty personal matters are beside the point. Miss Black will come with us now regardless of what you might have done to spoil your engagement, Malfoy. She has the honour of having an obligation to the Dark Lord which cannot be ignored.“

“I have no such obligation,” Narcissa interrupted. “Whatever agreements have been made on my behalf, without my consent, or even my knowledge, I reject them. All of them. If it’s such an honour to be obligated to your master, it should be easy for you to find someone else.” She took a huge breath. “Goodbye, Lucius. Take this poor boy and whoever this man is and leave me to the rest of my life.”

A new voice was ringing through the hall, Regulus. “Narcissa Juno Black, you are a daughter of an ancient and noble house devoted through the centuries to protecting the purity of wizarding lineages. Your blood and your body are not your own. You are bound by duty to do as the family bids -- “

“Oh, shut up, Regulus,” Sirius spat.

“Please, Cissa,” he tried again, ignoring Sirius, coming into the house to stand next to Lucius. “Don’t do this. It’s better for everyone if you come with us. Everyone.”

Her wand still raised, Narcissa fell quiet for a moment, looking into her cousin’s face, trying to read his intentions, his allegiances which were much more complicated than she had once thought. Regulus knew she was in love with Remus. And Regulus still cared for him enough to want to save Remus from the twisted violence of Tom Riddle and the Death Eaters. He was right to fear for him. But what could she do now?

And as they stood staring at each other, all but ignoring everything else in the house, Lucius moved. He snatched Narcissa around the waist, stepped backward, moving out of the house. Outside its walls, he turned on the spot, and disapparated. They were gone.

What Lucius didn’t know when he began the maneuvre was that Remus Lupin, hidden in an Invisibility Cloak, had his little finger linked with Narcissa’s. As Lucius pulled her out of the house, Lupin fought to grip her tightly enough to keep her inside. The cloak fell away, and as Lucius and Narcissa vanished, Remus went with them.


	27. Twenty-seven

Lucius Malfoy had grabbed Narcissa Black and disapparated, unwittingly taking Remus Lupin with them, vanishing with a crack. They left behind a beat of shocked silence before Sirius’s scream tore through the high, vaulted entrance hall of Potter manor. 

He shot a stupefying curse at the nearest enemy target, his younger brother Regulus. “Where is he?” he hollered as Regulus barely managed to shield himself from the hit. “You know where they’ve gone.”

Regulus was stumbling backward, trying to escape but unable to disapparate inside the house. 

“They’ve got Remus. Tell me!”

Amycus Carrow had drawn his wand on James. “Not so bold without your missus and your fancy gold spells, are you?” he taunted, regretting it immediately as James disarmed him. He scrambled to retrieve his wand from the shrubbery outside the front doors, leaving Regulus to face both James and Sirius alone.

“Reg, just tell us,” James said, a hand on Sirius’s arm.

“Where are they? They are going to kill Remus,” Sirius said, still shouting.

“No. No, he’s clever,” Regulus stammered. “He’s strong. He’ll get away.”

Sirius bared his teeth. “He might have on his own, but he won’t leave without HER.”

Regulus was outside now, glancing around for Carrow, not wanting to abandon him there to be taken to the Order of the Phoenix.

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You’re taking us to Remus. Right now." Sirius lunged as he said it, nearly stepping into the leg locking jinx James had fired at Regulus. It missed him as Carrow surfaced from over his shoulder, pulling Regulus backward into the shrubbery, twigs snapping as he turned on the spot. They were about to disapparate when Regulus’s wand flashed red one last time.

Sirius howled as they vanished, but James tugged hard on his arm. “Look!”

In the air where Regulus had stood a cloud of light remained, waving and fading, but lasting long enough for them to read the message in it, a single letter, a capital letter M, drawn in a stately old script, like the engraving on a signet ring. Without blurting it out for Carrow to hear, Regulus had told them where Remus had gone: Malfoy Manor.

“Right then,” Sirius said, brandishing his wand to disapparate himself.

“Rus, no,” James said, clamping both of his arms around him, keeping him from turning. 

"Get OFF me, James."

They scuffled together, quidditch teammates evenly matched only James was taller and had the advantage of already having Sirius’s arms pinned. He toppled the pair of them onto the hard tiled floor just inside the doors. 

“Will you wait,” James begged as they tussled. “We can’t rush into the house where Riddle and all his thugs are encamped. There’s too many of them, all battle trained and ruthless.”

“They won’t be expecting -- “

“It won’t matter, Sirius. Stop and think. We need to plan a bit. We can't help Remus until we get some help ourselves.”

Beneath him, Sirius stopped fighting, letting out a sound between a snarl and a snob before they both lay still, panting in the now quiet and empty house.

"Come on," James said, getting up. "Let's get to Lily and Pete and call for the Order."

—-—------------

As the heir of the house of Malfoy, Lucius was able to apparate directly inside the manor. He brought himself and his runaway bride to the drawing room, where Riddle had been holding court for weeks. It would be a grand entrance, dramatic, possibly even romantic as Lucius and Narcissa, the perfect Death Eater pair, returned to the manor. In truth, no soulmates, counterfeit or otherwise, ever looked better suited for each other than they did, and well Lucius knew it.

What he didn’t know was that Remus Lupin would arrive with them, clutching Narcissa’s hand, reeling through the apparition, stumbling and skidding, falling hard onto both of them as they landed, sending all of them sprawling. The three of them appeared in the drawing room, collapsed at Tom Riddle’s feet in a heap of fabric, hair, and noise.

The Death Eaters stationed at either side of Riddle’s armchair dived into the pile, pulling at arms and legs, scrambling to see who had invaded their stronghold.

“How dare you man-handle me this way in my own house,” Lucius demanded, snatching his wand back from Antonin Dolohov. If it had been someone less fearsome than Dolohov, he would have also slapped their face.

Narcissa’s reaction was much the same, twisting her wrists out of Alecto Carrow’s grasp, haughty and offended. Alecto was taken aback enough to let Narcissa free herself, but would not return her wand, grasping it in both of her hands, her head lowered like a goat about to charge.

Remus’s captor had pounced on him, hoisting him to his feet with large hands, their long fingernails filed into points and stained dark at the tips. The captor was on him instantly, silent as something supernatural. Without a word, the breath on the back of Remus’s neck pricked him with horror, demanding his attention. Unlike the others, who had held their prisoners facing away from themselves, toward Riddle, Remus’s captor turned him so they were standing face to face. Remus seldom got this close to anyone as tall as himself, but a pair of hex-green eyes were now level with his. 

For the first time since he was six years old, there was nothing in Remus’s field of vision but those eyes, the long nose, the bared, grinning teeth of Fenrir Greyback. Deep in Greyback’s throat was growl, low, for only Remus to hear. It petrified him. He wasn’t sure if he could smell blood or if the stench was rising from his memory. 

Through the haze of time and fear, he heard Narcissa speaking, and for that, Remus fought his way back.

Her voice was strange, high and childish. “Lucius, your very rude guest has got my wand,” she said, faking a pout as she took his arm, leaning against him and blinking up into his face.

There was a pause of bewilderment as Lucius blinked back at her. For a moment, he was silent, and they stood like a beautiful tableau, looking intently into each other’s faces in the centre of the room crowded with Death Eaters. 

She held her eyes wide open, like a baby, batting her eyelashes at Lucius. He was awful, and weak, but he was not stupid. He had to understand how furious Riddle would be if he knew the pair he'd chosen had rejected and betrayed each other. They would both be blamed, punished. It wouldn’t do. For the moment, for survival, they had to pretend.

At last, Lucius cracked with a bemused laugh. “What do you expect, my darling? You’ve been very bad this weekend,” he said, tapping the end of her nose with his forefinger. “I’ll keep your wand with me until you’ve properly repented.”

Alecto surrendered the wand to him. Narcissa stamped her foot as they passed it in front of her, pressing herself even closer against Lucius’s side with an audible, “Hmph.”

“Come now, there’s no point sulking,” he said, pocketing her wand and patting her hand where it grasped his sleeve. “You’ll remain without certain privileges until you’ve apologized to your father as well as to me and…” He extended his arm toward Riddle. “You must especially beg the forgiveness of our Lord.”

Riddle’s voice came vibrating through the room, a clear tenor but with a sound almost like a hiss at the end of each phrase. “Enough, Malfoy. What is this rabble that’s come along with you from the Potter’s manor? The one Greyback's got? Is he the one from the newspaper photo? Explain.”

Narcissa tossed her head. “Him? He can go,” she said. “I’ve finished with him.”

Remus wrenched himself within Greyback’s unyielding grip. Greyback let him spin around but held him with one arm bent around his throat so tightly Remus couldn’t speak. His opposite hand was on the back of Remus’s head. “Eyes down, scum,” he growled.

Narcissa let go of Lucius’s arm, curtsying to Riddle, raising her voice to speak over Remus’s strangled protests. “I do apologize for the embarrassment I might have caused when that reporter came nosing around yesterday. There’s no excuse but that it’s the last spring of my girlhood and I wanted a plaything while Lucius was so busy here. He always tells me I’m too flighty, but I’m growing up. Really I am, and -- “

“What is this wretch’s blood status?” Riddle interrupted, pointing at Remus with his chin.

Narcissa hung her head. “Half-blood, my Lord. Raised by some insipid Muggle woman and a low-ranking Ministry worker. I never would have insulted you by bringing him here, but as you see he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I certainly didn’t ask him to latch onto us as we were leaving." She said, truthfully enough, taking Lucius's arm again and smoothing her cheek against his sleeve. "Throw him out, darling. No need to be delicate about it. He deserves whatever abuse he gets while they do it.”

Greyback’s growl was now loud enough for everyone to hear it.

Lucius’s phony smile cracked. “Not yet, my love. You have finished with him, but our Lord may not be.”

Her pout lost its playfulness, her wide eyes washed with fear she couldn't blink away.

Riddle pursed his lips. "Indeed. Into the cellar with him."

Dolohov stepped up to take Remus away, but Greyback snarled at him. He led Remus out himself, alone, keeping his face tilted sharply toward the floor as they walked. Remus hadn’t seen Narcissa’s face since they’d arrived. The drawing room door slammed shut behind them and his heart gave a painful thud at the separation from her. His wrist throbbed. His wand was gone, but he wasn’t sure where.

The house was massive. His neck ached as if it was about to break by the time Greyback finally let go only to shove him down a flight of dark stone steps. He caught himself as he stumbled into the wall, finding his footing as he descended. Just as at Potter Manor, the cellar door was made of iron bars. 

Greyback shut himself inside with Remus, turning to him with a hungry grin. “You are one of mine.”

Remus nodded, his breath heavy and fast, throat almost too dry to speak. “I was six. A little boy, asleep when you came into my bedroom.”

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “And now look at you. You’ve grown up taller than anyone else in your family, haven’t you? Your senses of smell and hearing are keen and sharp. Your body is strong, and fast and agile, but you don’t dare show it off in quidditch or other stupid games. You hide it. Like it’s something to be ashamed of. But I see you. You’re not the son of that small, weakling father making speeches against us at the Ministry. Not anymore. You’re mine. I made you just as sure as if I’d sired you from the beginning.”

Remus stared back at him, his mouth still open. Greyback’s breath did indeed reek of old blood. His chest and shoulders were massive. Was this what he himself was like, as Moony? Everyone said Moony was bigger than Remus. Greyback’s head was moving in rhythm, and Remus could tell it was synced to his own heartbeat. And above all of this, what was most striking was Greyback’s open admiration for Remus, revelling at the sight of him. There was no sorrow at all in the way Greyback looked at him, only pride. No sadness or shame, not like Remus’s true father.

“When I infect their young,” Greyback went on, “wizards usually cast their children off and I raise them with us, in a pack. Especially when they’re marked.” Greyback lifted his hand, fitting the sharp tip of his fingernail into the scar bending over Remus’s nose. “I could open these wounds again, but they’re still so plain, so bright there isn’t a need, is there.”

It was too much and Remus cringed.

“As for you,” Greyback resumed, looking Remus over from his head to his feet. “When you were infected, that Muggle woman insisted they keep you. That Dumbledore even educated you, like a full wizard. You wrote the posh tests at the school and all, didn’t you?”

Remus blinked in the darkness. “Yes.”

“You pass any of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

Greyback meant to hum disinterestedly but it was more of a yip. “One of mine, all trained up like that.”

Remus stood a little taller. Greyback was a vain creature -- vain and absorbing whatever distinction and prestige he saw in Remus as if it was his own. Remus flailed toward it, like a lifeline. “They made me a prefect as well. Trusting me to help keep order in the school.”

At this, Greyback bent over laughing.

Remus was growing bolder, clearing his throat to drive toward the greatest point of pride of all. “I’m not only yours, Greyback,” Remus said. “I’m hers as well. The girl upstairs, the one your master wants as the mother of his chosen one. She’s not who they think she is. Sniff carefully around her. You’ll know. And you’ll know she’s mine.”

Greyback straightened up again, shaking his head and laughing quietly now, from the same place as his growl. “My boy. There are witches in this world who crave our -- particular gifts. Scads of them begging to be marked with our scent. But you will learn not to mistake these cravings for real bonds.”

“Bonds,” Remus repeated. “That’s exactly what it is. That’s why I’ve come after her. Malfoy will never have her. He knows it. He won’t be the father of the chosen one. Not now that she’s bound to me.”

Greyback huffed. “You misunderstand. Clever but stubborn.”

“I do understand,” Remus said. He pulled at the cuff of his sleeve, his bare arm white between them, the silver crescent, the lasting sign of his bond with Narcissa uncovered. "Look."

Greyback lit his wand and held it to Remus’s flesh, growling over it. “This is a creature’s bond mark.”

“Yes,” he said. “Her ancestors were Veelas. It’s resurfaced in her somehow, and it's brought her to me -- to us.” 

"Resurfaced," Greyback said. "That doesn't happen without magic. Someone with a knack for creature magic has enchanted her."

Remus was growing accustomed to Greyback's presence, finding the courage to take him by his forearms. “Think of it, father Greyback. Your master’s chosen one doesn’t have to be one of them. It can be one of us. It can be your grandchild. No more waiting for their help and their slow plotting to change the world. Instead, through this woman and child, we take the world back ourselves.”

Greyback snatched Remus’s hand from where it gripped his arm, squinting at the mark again. “You musn’t speak this way,” he said.

Remus knew he was right about that. Who had he become, lurking in the dark, conspiring with the demon of his childhood? It was worse than Narcissa’s fake flirting with Malfoy upstairs. But it was done for the same reason: to get them back together and out of this house. With her in danger, there might not have been anything he wouldn’t say.

“You have their trust. Together we have the strength,” Remus said. “And I have her. As a family, we can do this. Let me go. Let me take her away, slyly, so they don’t even know until it’s too late and the chosen one is ours.”

But Greyback was retreating, shaking his head. “No, you musn’t…”

“Think about it,” Remus said, following him as he backed toward the door. “Watch her. Bring her here, if you can, and see how she treats me when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“No, no,” Greyback said. “You will wait here where you belong. In the dark, alone.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Alastor Moody burst into Bathilda Bagshot’s front room, turning over cushions and peering behind the pictures and mirrors hung on the walls. “Lost one already, have ya?” he bawled at the lads, making no attempt to hide his frustration. “And it was the werewolf to boot.”

“Don’t be too hard on them, Alastor,” Bathilda said, rubbing her hands against James’s arms as if he might be cold. “They’re still in mourning and, though clever, far too young for all of this.”

Lily slumped on the couch while the lads stood in a row in front of the fire. Moody sneered at them. “Look at the bunch of you, lounging with your backs to the Floo so you won’t see who’s coming through it ‘til it’s too late. What are we going to do with you?”

“Yes, what are we going to do?” Sirius said, stepping away from the fire. “Remus has been at Malfoy Manor for hours now and we’ve done nothing. As soon as the sun sets, whether we’ve got a plan or not, I’m going to look for him, alone if I have to.”

“And they’ll pick you right off,” Moody said, squaring up. “Malfoy Manor is as old and as cursed as houses in Britain get. It’s got spectacular security in the best of times, let alone when Tom Riddle is staying over.”

Sirius was stammering. “Riddle? He’s there?”

As if summoned by this bad news, the Floo Moody had warned the lads not to turn their backs on flared to life and Dumbledore stepped into the room in a cloud of hot, sparking dust.

“Professor, thank the stars,” said Lily, bounding to her feet from the sofa. “James and I -- we’ve had another -- well, look.” She took the new prophecy orb from her pocket. Sunlight from the window struck its glassy surface but it refracted none of it, seeming to absorb the light instead.

“Oh, already. Splendid.” Dumbledore pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bent to examine it.

All the while, Sirius was raving to him about Remus’s disappearance.

When Sirius had finished, Dumbledore raised his head, humming. “Yes, much to think about here. Complicated. We will get to Remus Lupin, Mr. Black. But first, Madam Potter must take a moment to tell me about this prophecy.

“I -- “ she began, “I’m not sure what to say. It was about the rules of life and death, and Tom Riddle biding his time, preparing to shift and change them.”

“Do you remember the exact wording?” Dumbledore asked.

Lily looked to James, both of them shaking their heads. James knew she was disappointed in herself, and he reached for her hand and drew her close as she said, "I’m afraid not. Have you ever made a prophecy yourself, sir? It's hard to take it all in. Does it ever get easier?"

“I remember,” Peter said. “I was there too.” 

“Please proceed, Mr. Pettigrew,” Dumbledore smiled. “How priceless it is to have a trustworthy, attentive friend.”

Peter repeated the prophecy, leaving Dumbledore humming more deeply than before.

“Yes, it seems immortality is Riddle’s ultimate project. Unfortunate, most unfortunate.” Dumbledore muttered the words of the prophecy to himself. “He does not want to act too rashly until he has secured for himself a kind of immortality, whatever the cost may be to himself and others.”

“But how can he? We’ve always been taught immortality is impossible,” James said.

Dumbledore grumbled. “It ought to be. There is very little magic to that end, all of it dark, all of it so damaging to the wizard who crafts it that he would be better off dead. And none of it is guaranteed to work. I will begin immediately to search through it. In the meantime, tell no one. In fact, that prophecy orb,” Dumbledore eyed it as Lily held it in her hand. “Will you give it to me, Madam Potter, of your own free will?”

“Certainly, sir,” she said, though as it left her fingers, she hesitated, so slightly that only James noticed.

With Lily’s permission, Dumbledore was able to touch the orb. He pocketed it with a decisive nod. “What I need from the pair of you now,” he told the Potters, “is for you to make your own study of immortality. Beginning with Bathilda’s book on shade magic.”

He produced a familiar old codex from his robes and pushed it at James. It was the book Bathilda had read from as Monty and Effie had died and he cringed at the sight of it, the feel of it in his hands as he received it. 

Lily turned to brush a kiss on his jaw. “It’s alright, love. Let me take it for you.”

Dumbledore went on. “This book’s magic, like all magic, has the capacity for great good. And it is for you.”

"No immortality though?" James said, fighting his fear and grief, managing a wan smile, running his finger along the book's spine as Lily held it.

The smile Dumbledore returned was just as weak. "No. I am afraid not."

“A book?” Sirius railed. “Remus is a captive of the most dangerous wizard of our time, and we’re all going to settle in for a good read?”

“Shut your cry-hole and wait for your orders,” Moody bawled at him.

Dumbledore continued. “I fear Riddle’s plan for the counterfeit soulmates pair may be more serious than mere vanity, more than simply mimicking the light. If he is using the loathsome magic I fear he is, he may be breeding the child to aid him in his quest for immortality. He wants a fresh, pure, untorn soul.”

“Untorn?” Lily said. “How does a soul become torn?”

Dumbledore shuddered. None of them had ever seen him do such a thing before.

Moody rounded on the students, all of them recoiling, even Sirius. “Don’t repeat a thing you’ve heard today about souls and immortality and whatnot. It is all unconfirmed and dangerous.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “Say nothing. I myself will have to consult with Horace Slughorn before proceeding any further. But you will be relieved to know, our heroic Mr. Black, that all of this means we must free not only Remus Lupin from Malfoy Manor, but your cousin Narcissa Black as well. I’m not sure why Riddle has made Narcissa integral in this matter, but he has. And now we will be sure to deprive him of her.”

\-------------------------------------

The end of the rush of adrenaline after the morning’s violence had left Remus exhausted. He was so tired he was actually able to sleep in the cellar. It was the first time since before his last transformation that he’d slept without her, his bonded partner, Narcissa. 

When he woke up miserable and cold on the dirty stone floor below Malfoy Manor, the daylight coming through the gaps between the bars on the door was slanting farther into the darkness. It was almost evening, and it didn’t look like anyone had any intention of feeding him.

That was a bad sign. 

He paced the floor until he realized how much it made him seem like a wolf in a cage and he sat down again. Thinking of canines, he wondered whether the lads would risk coming for him -- whether anyone could stop them. The spaces between the bars on the door looked like they might be wide enough for Peter to squash his well-fed ratiness between them. But then what? No, it was best they bided their time, listened to Dumbledore. 

But if whatever plan they came up with didn’t include bringing Narcissa along, what good would it be? He dropped his head in his hands. He couldn’t leave her. But he couldn’t stay here either.

A sound snapped his head to attention. He kept silent, barely breathing, sinking further into the shadows. 

They were going to feed him. Greyback’s massive form was recognizable even in silhouette, coming down the stairs, looming over someone else walking in front of him. The other person carried a tray, dressed as if they were staff from the kitchen with a kerchief tied over their head. Even with Greyback towering over them, their posture was straight and unintimidated, as if werewolves didn’t frighten them. Remus didn’t need to see their face to know who it was.

He forced himself not to pounce out of the darkness as Greyback opened the iron grate and nudged Narcissa into the cellar. She set the tray on the floor and glanced back to see Greyback pantomime tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing before he went back up the stairs. Left alone, she hugged herself against the chilly dampness and craned her neck to see beyond the wedge of dim light in which she stood.

Remus’s hand shot out from the shadows and swept her into the dark. She had been waiting for him, hoping, desperate to find him here, but she gasped all the same. “Lupin, be careful,” she whispered up into his face as he pulled her against his chest. “It might be a trick. A trap. I just wanted to get a glimpse of you, to see you were alright.”

He shook his head, smoothing her kerchief against her hair with both his hands. How in the stars did she make a scullery uniform look elegant? “If Greyback brought you here alone, it’s alright,” he said.

She frowned, puzzled. “Alright because you’re -- “

“His son, yes,” he finished for her, scanning the space all around them. Greyback could no longer be seen standing in the stairwell, but he wasn’t far off, and he was certainly listening, his ears keen enough to hear every whisper. Remus jerked his head in his direction, hoping she’d understand and accept Greyback above Lucius as their best ally, their best dupe, their best hope to escape Malfoy Manor.

Her hands rose to hold his face. “Of course,” she said. “Greyback made you what you are, what I adore. He won’t leave you caged like this, like some wretched animal. I know it.” 

“Brilliant girl,” he breathed into her ear as he bent to embrace her. She understood perfectly. She always did.

“You’re cold,” she cooed. “My poor darling. Let me warm you.”

Not all of this moment together was for Greyback’s benefit. She had cupped her hands around his and was warming them with her breath and lips, her cheek against his knuckles. 

“I’m a bit cold, but unhurt,” he said. “Here, enough of that. This is quicker.” His hand was at the small of her back, lifting her up, inadvertently catching the edge of the loose servant’s tunic she wore, dragging it up until his palm was against the smoothness of her back. Her caution shattered at his touch and she vaulted into a wild, deep kiss, each of them unsure if they would come together like this again. 

It could be that the two nights and days they’d lived as a bonded pair were all they would ever have. Neither of them was thinking of exaggerating for an audience as he lifted her off the ground, one of his arms inside her clothes, his chest expanding as he breathed in her scent, her heartbeat loud and fast in his ears. She clung to him, her hands in his hair, and her voice in her throat. 

He bent into the kiss, intensifying it, raising an ache at the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach. Even now, locked in a cellar, she was too good to be true. Perfect in her mad, cunning, genius way. “By the stars, I love you,” he breathed into her.

“Lupin,” she said into his mouth. “It’s true. I’m all for you, but they’re going to have me married to Lucius anyway. They’re bringing my parents, and Bella. Mum has her mother's wedding dress ready. And it will happen here in the manor, tomorrow afternoon on the floor over your head.”

A groan escaped him. He had taken his mouth from hers, finding her hand and kissing the mark on her inner wrist, moving up toward her elbow, pushing her wide sleeve aside with his face.

“I don’t think it will work,” he said against her smooth skin which, if he wasn’t mistaken, seemed to be beginning to take on its Veela glow. “If it’s only a contract, your signature on parchment, perhaps it will. But if they try to use a magical marriage spell it won’t take. It can’t, can it? Not when I’m already yours.”

She hummed and closed her eyes. “Even if it does work, as soon as Lucius comes near me to get me pregnant with Riddle’s chosen one I’m liable to transform into my angry bonded Veela, rip his hair out, and burn his ancestral home down until just this foundation is left. They can hide my wand all they like. Veelas don’t need them to summon fire.”

Remus laughed against her arm, above her elbow now, raising shivers through her. "My glorious Veela."

She sunk her fingers into his hair as he smoothed his cheek against her wrist one final time. “Maybe I’ll just be killed in the attempt,” she said.

He folded her well-kissed arm between them. “They won’t kill you, love. I don’t know why, but this scheme to conceive the chosen one Riddle is looking for depends on you.”

She sighed but glanced toward the stairwell. “Why can’t I steal away and have the chosen one with you as his father? There’s no wizard like you, Lupin. Imagine our chosen one, my Draco with a creature identity rooted in his primordial being, from before he was born. Marvelous. Think of that, Lupin.”

He nodded and kissed her loudly on the cheek. Yes, he thought to himself, think of that, Greyback. Think, and let us out.


End file.
